The Maxwell Progeny
by Anonymous Void
Summary: Sequel to The Maxwell Project. To ensure their survival, Solo and Duo must learn the shadowy secrets of Project Maxwell before they are captured by their former overseers.
1. Entry of a Forgotten Soul

Author's Note: At long last, The Maxwell Progeny is up and ready for your consuming purposes. For those of you who have read The Maxwell Project, go on ahead and read to your hearts' content. You may want to read TMP1 first to refresh your memory about what was going on when we left off but other than that, enjoy. For those that haven't read The Maxwell Project, read that first before you read this. Otherwise, it won't make any since TMP2 picks up where TMP1 left off. Hell, most of you probably won't even understand this chapter but it is only a prologue that will serve to set up future chapters so pay attention to it! Enjoy.

Disclaimer: I do not own Gundam Wing.

Warning: religious overtones

The Maxwell Progeny

Entry of a Forgotten Soul

_Journal Entry 10415:_

_How long has it been since I first began waiting for this day? I know I have been expecting it for some time but I guess I could say I gave up on it long ago. Now it has finally come to pass and I find myself at a loss._

_It's funny. Here I am, the person responsible for so much misery, and I am cowering in the face of that which I brought forth into this world. I really am a coward, may God forgive me for that weakness. I've always had trouble coming to terms with my actions._

_Sometimes, I wish I hadn't had such a vivid imagination, that I was just as dull and simple minded as the rest of the country's population. Then I wouldn't be stuck in this mess in the first place. How I rue the day I first met that young man who expressed to me so much interest in my work. If only I had known that he had been a devil in expensive clothing then maybe, just maybe…_

_But what's the point in thinking about might-have-beens and possible alternative realities? It's not as if I could go back into time and change everything. No, I believe that I will have to deal with this but can I be blamed if I drag my feet while doing so? It wouldn't do anything to effect the whole scheme of things, would it? Knowing my luck, it will._

_Why couldn't I have been more like John? That man, I swear, has to be blessed, blessed by God or some higher power up there that seems to think I am not worth His time. Perhaps I am not worth anybody's time. I wouldn't be opposed to it if they decided to kill me for all the suffering that I may or may not have inadvertently placed on them._

_Even now as I sit here, writing this all down, I can hear them. I can hear their movements as they walk down the hallways, walk into the house of worship. I can hear the one with a mouth so bad that only sailors would be proud of him. I can hear the meekest one padding around, trailing after the one with the foul mouth like a lost puppy and when he's not doing that he sticks to John and Helen like glue. I can hear the quiet one who seems so cool headed, taking charge of the other two, asking questions about some girl that he might have feelings for._

_Funny, I always thought, and had been told, that they wouldn't be able to experience emotion but from those curses I heard earlier, if there is one thing they are not lacking, it is passion. It sings to my heart that they are not mindless robots; perhaps then something can be done._

_God Almighty, what am I thinking? It was this kind of thinking that led to this in the first place. Why would I want to get any more involved than I already am? Look at where it's gotten me. I am an exile in my own country, I am hiding out in a church, I am isolating myself into this room to avoid what? The truth of what my imagination has wrought? I really am going to Hell, no matter how many Hail Mary's I do or how many times I go to confession to admit my sins._

_My sins are one too many to count._

_I am unredeemable._

_But isn't this my chance to fix things, to try and atone for all that I have done? The Lord Almighty works in mysterious ways, so John tells me. By the way, that reminds me, he tried using that "God only helps those who help themselves" bit on me the other day. It wasn't the Son that said those words but Benjamin Franklin! Now there was a good laugh when he found out I was speaking the truth._

_Where was I again? Oh yes, atonement. I am no better than that man who came to me, willing to take the risk that I offered that all others like the Winners and Romafellor weren't willing to take. Perhaps they were right in refusing me. But I was just so mad that I was being so dismissed so easily, as if my ideas were nothing but fantasy but when really I was so close to making it a reality. Accepting the first offer made to me was the gravest mistake I have ever made and will ever._

_Or maybe it won't be if I don't act soon. They want to leave as soon as possible and my time is running out. I may not be able to do something about the past but they sure can do something about the future. I must take advantage of this God-given opportunity before it slips through my fingers and is crushed under that lunatic's shoe just like everything else._

_Okay, take a deep breath James. You can do this. All you're doing is telling them that you are responsible for~~~~~~~~_

_Oh what the hell am I saying? They're going to kill me once I tell them. Then again, would that be such a bad thing? When all is said and done, all blame rests with me, I suppose. I really am such a coward. So many have suffered already and that includes not just those who are alive but those who have also died because of it and there are a lot of dead bodies, their blood on my hands._

_For example, there's Helen, poor sweet Helen. She just had to catch the attention of the wrong person. Unfortunately, I found out too late what had happened and only after I had made my escape. She did not do anything to deserve such a fate. Why has God allowed this twisted…game to continue? We're stealing people's humanities away, something that can never be retrieved, just like Adam and Eve's loss of innocence back in Paradise. Just like the innocence of all those children who have consumed by Project Maxwell._

_May God take pity on me and have mercy on my soul._

_I'm going in._


	2. Continuing Where We Left Off

Author's Note: Surprised by the recent update? Well, since last chapter most likely didn't feed your hunger for me, I have decided to give y'all another update. From here on in, though, it will be the usual three days so don't look in too much of this quick update. Enjoy.

Disclaimer: I do not own Gundam Wing.

Warning: Language, religious overtones

Continuing Where We Left Off

She had to have been an angel, she just had to.

Duo knew that he didn't know a lot of stuff. He knew he wasn't smart like Solo was about things. In fact, it had only been a couple of days ago that he learned what an angel was.

He was definitely sure that that woman over there, that nun as she called herself, was an angel.

Sister Helen was her name and he had fallen in love with her, not in that whole way that Dorothy's friends Heero and Relena were, but it was love somehow, he just sure what kind it was. He loved it whenever her violet eyes would land on him and brighten with a wondrous light; how whenever she spoke to him, her voice would sound like the most beautiful music he had ever heard; and he loved it more than anything whenever she would kiss him on the forehead in that caring way that he had never been shown before. He had gone as far as to request her to tuck him into the loaned bed he had been given every night.

He only hated it, though, when she wasn't paying any attention to him but to some other kids, one in particular named Adrian. He didn't like it when Adrian was near her and he especially didn't like it when she had picked Adrian up once and he had given him a raspberry. His other side hadn't liked it either but he had refrained from teaching this Adrian a lesson mainly because he didn't want to make Sister Helen sad.

Whenever he wasn't with Sister Helen, he was usually with Solo who was doing his own thing, grumbling about being kept up here when they should have left a long time ago. Duo could see through Solo's mood that he cared about these people even though he didn't want to show it. Solo had been a street kid after all, whatever that meant.

It was Trowa who was keeping them there, insisting that he wanted to see if Catherine would be all right. He kinda agreed with him on that point because Catherine was also nice and she was good with throwing a knife.

It wasn't like they were unwelcome anyway; Father Maxwell was always there to make them feel at home and he liked the guy as well, not as much as Sister Helen but then again he hadn't liked anybody as much as he did her unless you counted Solo but Solo was his friend. Solo had given him his name, Kid, how could he not owe so much to him? Anyway, Father Maxwell was a really nice guy, even when he was talking about someone else called God, whoever that was. Also, Father Maxwell seemed to like him better than Adrian so that put him up a few more notches in his book. Plus he knew it was him in that confessional thing even though the man always denied with a smile on his face.

Who else was there now? He knew there was someone else but he just couldn't put his finger on it…oh yeah, Dorothy, had could he have forgotten? Yeah, she had been very quiet but maybe that was because Solo had told him that girls were noisy. Eh, it wasn't like she meant anything to him.

Now that he was on the subject of people he didn't care about, he had also spotted another man walking about and he didn't like it whenever he caught the man looking at him. The guy just looked sad for some reason and whenever he had tried to point him out to Solo, the guy would just disappear when he wasn't looking. He didn't like it one bit, especially now that he was waiting his turn for confessional and that guy was watching him again from one of the pews. He debated whether or not to blast the guy but decided not to since not only Sister Helen and Father Maxwell would be upset but he would also make God unhappy and he didn't want that. But he was considering it more and more as he was sure it was Adrian in there, hogging up all the confessing time and everything.

Flicking a quick glance to see that strange man eyeing him, he turned his glance into a full on glare, giddy that the man quickly looked away. Wow, it had actually worked! He had been practicing that look in the mirror, trying to get it to look just like Solo's. He'd have to thank him for it the next time he saw him, that was if he could get into that confession booth sometime today.

Of course, that soon presented the problem of what he was going to confess about today. He hadn't done anything bad; at least he didn't think he did. Did that bad look he gave that man count as something bad? Best to be safe, he supposed. How about some bad stuff his other self did? He felt a slight headache awaken in his head and he quickly forgot about that thought. Perhaps he'd let his other talk about that some other time.

He felt someone sit next to him in the pew and when he looked to see who it was, his face brightened up.

"So what ya up ta, Duo?" Solo asked, slouching in his seat, his green eyes half lidded as he looked down at the braided boy.

"Waitin'," he answered.

"For what?" Solo asked back, the corners of his mouth twitching upwards.

"Confession."

The smile that may have been growing died altogether and the blond raised an eyebrow at him. "Confession? Why'd ya want ta do something like that?"

"It makes Sister Helen happy if I do it," Duo shrugged.

"Ooh, ya got yourself a little girlfriend now, huh?" Solo teased.

"Solo, stop," Duo complained halfheartedly as he cheeks pinkened in embarrassment.

"She's a bit old," Solo continued, "but maybe older women are your tastes. Good luck with that, she's a nun."

"What's that mean, being a nun?" Duo asked, his brow furrowing in confusion.

"It means women who don't screw and are devoted ta God," Solo snorted in contempt. "Why'd they do something stupid like that is beyond me. What a waste of ass."

"Solo!" Duo admonished. "This is a church! Ya can't say ass in a church, ass!"

"You just said it," Solo replied smirking as Duo covered his mouth in horror. "Twice. Besides, what's the worst that can happen?"

"Perhaps you have a lot on your soul?" a deep voice spoke up in front of them. Looking up, Duo paled as he saw Father Maxwell standing right there, a smile on his face, his eyes squinting in mirth under dark eyebrows.

Father Maxwell was a large man with hardly any wrinkles unless you counted those around his small eyes, which he claimed were a result from laughing too much. His short, graying hair was starting to go into the balding phase on top of his cylindrical shaped head, his face smooth with strong features including a large, hawkish nose and a strong, cleftless chin. His shoulders were broad like Solo's, maybe even more broader than that, his body posture ramrod straight even though he was at ease, and his large hands were clasped behind his back lazily. He was dressed entirely in black, the one exception being the white under his collar that stuck out just in front of his neck. The priest's presence alone was calming in nature and could even humble the most hostile of people, including Solo even though the blond resisted as much as he could.

"Maybe you would like a turn?" the Father hinted, his eyes flicking over towards the confession booth. "You know, lighten the burden on your heart, shoulder it with someone who won't utter a word of it no matter what…"

"Thanks but no thanks," Solo replied, stretching his legs out as he got more comfortable in his seat, his hands grabbing one another behind his head.

"But Solo…!" Duo protested.

"It isn't our place to force your friend into something he doesn't want to do, child," Father Maxwell interrupted gently. "If Solo wants to keep it to himself, then he has that right to do so. Come along now, Duo. Adrian is finished so it's your turn."

Duo looked worriedly back at Solo who made a "go ahead" gesture. "I'll still be hear when ya get out," he told him.

Still looking undecided, Duo nevertheless went into the booth, closing the door behind him. As soon as Solo heard the door shut, he sighed and let himself slump further onto the pew he was sitting on. He couldn't believe that Duo had bought into that Catholic mumbo jumbo so easily. Solo himself didn't believe in God, though he had at one point, mainly because if there was a God, then why did he let those assholes in the white coats do horrible things to them back at that lab? It was one thing believing in God when you were eating out of a garbage can but it was another thing when you were a human guinea pig.

Still, he couldn't blame Duo for buying into it. Duo, at least this personality of Duo, was incredibly naïve and the thought that there was some all powerful father figure watching over everyone was awe-inspiring for him.

He was getting restless; they had spent too much time here. Even though he didn't like church, he didn't want anything to happen to this one, for some strange reason. He didn't like thinking like that, especially since he had taken part in destroying an entire town and a circus not too far back and hadn't given a care about either of those.

Actually, those two things were kinda cool now that he thought about it.

Glancing over at the confession thing, whatever it was, he blew his lips and looked around, trying to find something to do that didn't involved looking at those dumb hymn books filled with nothing but dumb songs about a guy named Jesus saving people. Pfft, well if he was so good at saving people, why hadn't he saved him? It was so stupid. Then he caught a look at a guy who, had he known, had been casting looks at Duo previously.

Solo frowned and the guy looked away and did his eyes deceive him but did that guy look a bit guilty? Hmm…eh, it wasn't as if the guy had some life altering crap or something like that.

Now what was he going to do to pass the time?

---

Trowa took in a deep breath of fresh air as he entered a courtyard situated in an opened area of a church that also served as a local orphanage. It had been some time since he had last felt the heat of the sun on his skin; he had spent most of his time here looking after Catherine who was still recovering from their accident just outside of the church itself.

The sandstorm had passed, naturally, but he still remembered quite vividly how the nearby plants had been screaming at him as the storm appeared right behind them. He had been told that the storm in itself hadn't been natural, which confused him somewhat until he added in the factor of more of those boys who were after Solo and Duo, the same ones that had destroyed the circus, his old home. Then things like an unnatural sandstorm became more readily believable.

However, even if he did acknowledge that, there still was one problem. The RV was totaled and buried under tons of sand. Even if they could get it out of the ground, how were they going to fix it? None of them, that he knew of, were mechanics and back when he and Catherine were still with the circus, one of the friendly circus folk would take care of it for them. They needed to find some new wheels or hitchhike around the state of Arizona if they didn't want to get this church and the orphanage to become another casualty in the storm of destruction that seemed to follow Solo and Duo everywhere they went.

In the meantime, though, he was letting the buzz of all the plants in the church's courtyard unwind him and his anxieties for the moment. Of course, he didn't let all the noisy traffic in that came from all the plants; that was a surefire way to get a migraine, at least for him it was. In all honesty, plants were chatterboxes that had to talk all the time. If he hadn't had as much control as he did when it came to blocking things from his mind, he would have gone insane from all the "noise."

The earth he much more preferred over the plants only because it was silent most of the time and when it did speak up, it usually had something important to say.

Oh wait, you probably have no idea about what was going on and what he was talking about? Well, to make a long story short, Trowa, and he assumed Solo and Duo went through the same thing, had been part of an experiment that had resulted in him receiving the ability to not only communicate with the plants and the earth itself but wielding the plants and all powers of nature should he call on it. But his abilities were far different from Solo's invincibility and Duo's time manipulation as well as those other boys who were chasing after the latter two. Sure, it was exciting but Trowa rather preferred things being calm and easy-going. A person could only take so much excitement before they cracked.

So where was he again? Oh yes, he was taking a stroll out in the garden, wanting to clear his head out and settle himself in the moment before retreating back to Catherine's bedside and nursing her back to health. As he took his stroll, though, he nearly ran over the other female in the ragtag group that he had been apart of.

Dorothy Catalonia, or that's how she introduced herself to him.

He didn't really know much about her except that she had ran into Solo and Duo some time before he met up with them while accompanied with two other teenagers whom they were separated from during the circus attack. All he did know hadn't come from her but from Solo who happened not to have a high opinion of her. Truth be told, Solo didn't have a high opinion of anybody except for Duo and, oddly enough, Catherine. But back to Dorothy, the blonde girl with the eyebrows that took away from her natural beauty was seemingly enjoying her time out in the garden as well. She was just sitting there on a stone bench, lost in her own thoughts. The unibanged youth decided to try and give her some company; the fresh air looked as if it had made him more sociable.

As Trowa sat down beside her, it turned out that she wasn't as lost in thought as he had believed. As soon as he had been within ten feet of the bench, she had looked up at him with blank eyes but he could tell that she was aware of her surroundings and him. However, he didn't make an attempt to make any conversation, instead offering his silent companionship should she want it.

"What do you see in them?"

He blinked and turned his full attention towards the blonde headed girl who was looking straight at him with her pale blue eyes that sometimes reminded the youth of the sky, that perfect robin's egg blue that was so rare to find in someone's eye. He raised his visible eyebrow up, asking her silently to elaborate and maybe repeat herself while she was at it.

She stared back at him for a few seconds before acquiescing to answer his unspoken question. "Why are you so nice to those two, Solo and Duo I mean."

Ah, so that's what she was thinking about. Still, there had to be more to it than that. He was an excellent reader of people; it was what he used when selecting people to trust after his ordeals on the metal table. So what was really on her mind…

"How do you mean?" he asked aloud. "Is there some reason why I shouldn't be 'nice' to them?"

The look she gave him was so informative, at least to him it was, telling him more of what she was thinking about in that blonde head of hers than any words she could have uttered. Still, it would be better for her to say it out loud to confirm his suspicions.

"You can't tell me you've forgiven them," she blurted out. Eh? Now what was that all about?

"Forgiven them for what?" he asked, hoping for her to clarify.

"You know," she shrugged, looking at him helplessly. "What happened back at the circus, they completely destroyed it! And then there was your car—"

Okay, that confirmed it. Nice to know that his abilities weren't so rusty after being among the trustworthy circus where he didn't have to be suspicious of anybody. "How was that any of their fault?" he interrupted. "It was a freak sandstorm that totaled the RV."

"And the circus?" Dorothy pressed.

The sudden image of seeing the animals, all wounded from acid burns he found out later, flashed before his eyes but did not linger. "That was those other boys," he replied.

"And those other boys were after Solo and Duo," Dorothy added on.

"And they were the ones who destroyed the circus," he counted, beginning to enjoy this interaction. "If I recall correctly, it was Solo and Duo…well at least that other Duo, who were trying to stop those other boys. Was it Solo who injured the circus animals? Was it Duo who tore the Ferris wheel apart? No, those two just happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time."

"I can agree to that," Dorothy muttered to herself but the unibanged youth caught it.

"Come again?" he asked, pretending to be ignorant.

"Those two tore up my hometown," Dorothy admitted to him and Trowa could see the resentment she still had for it. "There's nothing left of it. If they hadn't have come and taken Heero hostage, then I would still be home, with my family, going to school, teasing my best friend over how lovey-dovey she is with Heero, not here with no one I know and…and…"

"How do you know you would have been still alive if they hadn't have come?" Trowa countered smoothly. "Perhaps their coming might have prolonged your life."

"As if," Dorothy snorted. "They're being chased by freaks just like them, that's a real improvement. I'll live to see one hundred by sticking with them if I'm not killed at seventeen."

"Now you're just being sarcastic," Trowa said.

"Ya think?" Dorothy snapped.

Trowa shook his head but he wasn't in the least bit offended. "Watch this," he instructed as he held out a hand towards an apple tree that was a distance away from them. Slowly the tree began to lean towards him, its branches stretching out further and further until a ripe apple was just hovering above his hand. Without even blinking, Trowa eyed the apple intently until it let go of the limb it was holding on to and landed in his hand. Without a second thought, Trowa gave a silent thank you and watched the tree resume its original position on opposite side of the open courtyard. Turning back to Dorothy, he offered the apple to the wide-eyed girl who was staring at him in disbelief, or maybe it was horror…

When she didn't take the apple, he turned in his seat and held the fruit out to a nearby orphan who was also watching him with wide eyes, the small girl differing in reaction as she tiptoed closer to Trowa until the young man could put the apple into her hand.

"Thank you," the small girl said shyly before scurrying off. Trowa watched after the girl until she was out of sight before turning back to Dorothy who was now looking at him in a more peculiar way though he could not see any horror this time around.

"So now what do you think of me?" he asked, breaking the silence.

"How…how did you…?" Dorothy began but couldn't quite finish.

"Don't judge people before you get to know them," Trowa said instead. "There are reasons why everybody acts like they do. When I look at Solo, I see a boy who is scared, scared that people are going to hurt him and he's going to do his best to try and push them away. Perhaps that is why he is invulnerable? He acts all macho and says he doesn't care but that's a front. Didn't he save you back at the circus? Duo, though, he's a bit more tricky. You know that he has multiple personalities, right? Ask yourself, what could have happened to him that was so traumatic that his mind created another personality? It isn't something that is the typical run-of-the-mill, I can tell you that. Well, whatever it was, it brought those two together and together they escaped it for whatever reasons they had to do so. They were probably the same reasons why _I_ escaped as well. They have a story, Dorothy, most likely a harsh one, one that has shaped them into the people they are today. That's why I am 'nice' to them."

Standing back up, Trowa stretched himself. "Think about what I said Dorothy," he continued. "There are many reasons why a person can hate another. Just make sure they are _good_ reasons first otherwise you might regret it."

Smiling a small smile to himself, he left the girl mulling over his words. Now, he needed to get back to Catherine and see how she was doing.


	3. Enter Chang Wufei

Author's Note: I would just like to say that the newest addition to the OC cast, Yuuan, is the creation of Archsage Soren who was kind enough to allow me to use him. Thanks a lot buddy and now for the rest of you, enjoy.

Disclaimer: I do not own Gundam Wing or Archsage Soren's Yuuan and Jason.

Warning: language, major spoilers of The Maxwell Project

Enter Chang Wufei

"Let us go over this one more time," a soft yet stern voice commanded. Sitting upright with his arms crossed and his onyx eyes deadly serious was Chang Wufei, experiment #15555 of a secret project under the supervision of X Associates, Inc. or XAI for short.

Across from him sat another boy, this one with straight, black, shoulder length hair with white tips and long bangs named Jason Ciliars, experiment #10615 and the Master of the Wind as he called himself occasionally.

Jason understood why Wufei wanted to go over the information again but even he was getting tired of repeating it over and over again. They had yet to leave base and every hour they delayed, the further Solo and his sidekick got from them. He was itching to get into it, fight this time even.

Sighing a huff, he sat up straighter and said, "Solo is invincible to all attacks and/or hits to him. Punch him and he'll shrug it off like it was nothing. His invulnerability has also given him increased strength and speed so he'll use anything he can get his hands on as a weapons or a projectile, one of his preferred methods of fighting. Otherwise, he likes to get up close and use hand-to-hand combat skills. Don't mess up his hair; I don't know why just don't do it.

"His smaller partner, Duo, is unknown to me. As I watched him fight Dustin and Justin, I wasn't able to deduce his powers. All I know is that he is able to create a barrier of some kind, hold objects up in the air, and even use his power to move himself around the battlefield. At first, I thought he had telekinetic powers and while there were some similarities, it was still different enough that I had to conclude it wasn't that. He's aggressive in battle but he usually waits for you to make the first move first before countering on his own."

"And what about your previous partners?" Wufei asked.

"All of them are dead," Jason dutifully answered. "Isley was the first of us to fall and we are unsure how that happened. Dustin and Justin were the next to fall as Duo somehow transported himself behind Dustin and impaled him with a metal bar and he short-circuited Justin by spraying a geyser of water at him."

"And how did he do those things?" Wufei questioned.

"That's why telekinesis and psychic powers don't match up with him," Jason replied. "Somehow he slowed Dustin and Justin down and got behind Dustin when he killed him. As for Justin, I don't know how he did that one because I was paying more closer attention to Solo and Mobias at that point. All I know is that he busted open a water tower."

"What about the second group?"

"I wasn't of sound mind because Mobias had given me some alcohol before that fight but I have gotten the reports from the morgue guys."

"And what did they say?"

"Vera was torn in two pieces, most likely by Solo. They think he may have used a knife to do it. Yun was found with one of his tentacles shoved down his throat."

"He suffocated?"

"Not enough time to do that. His own acid ate up his insides. Curtis' head was removed and Risk was found with a bunch of tree branches sticking out of his body. There wasn't anything left of Kyle but the reports mentioned something about dust for some reason. I believe that Duo killed all three of them but the morgue guys said that he could have only killed Kyle and may have gotten Curtis but Risk they couldn't figure out."

"And Mobias? What happened to him?"

"You should know that; you're the one you killed him."

"That was Mobias? Doesn't matter now, does it?"

"No, it doesn't," Jason agreed. "He deserved it. Now, what are we going to do about Solo and Duo?"

"I think I know more of what they can do now," Wufei mused aloud. "When we face them, they shouldn't be too much trouble now that I know what to expect. Tomorrow we'll head out and track them down. In the meantime, I want you to rest while I make a request for additional group members. I think we'll only need two others for this if everything goes all right."

"Two?" Jason repeated, skeptical. "Why not bring ten others? Why just two?"

"They have already beaten ten others," Wufei retorted.

"Hey, I haven't fought with them yet," Jason interrupted, giving the Asian youth a glare.

"Nine then," Wufei amended. "They've defeated nine already, what makes you think taking ten others is going to have anymore significance?"

"And two will have significance?" Jason countered, crossing his arms defensively over his chest.

"Numbers alone won't take down one who is invulnerable and one whose powers defy logic," Wufei stated. "However, if one properly strategizes and uses their resources to their full potential, they'll be able to accomplish more than a mindless mob. It's not the strongest opponent that wins the fight. It is the smartest."

"The smartest, huh?" Jason said, still skeptical.

"I already have two others in mind that will allow us to accomplish the mission efficiently and expediently," Wufei continued. "I will make my request now but I do not foresee anything that could have our superiors refuse. Go get some rest now. We're going to need all we can get."

---

Yuuan Yoshireko was currently in a state of distress.

You see, Yuuan was not the most impressive person you could ever see. For one thing, he was short. Another thing was that he was a bully magnet, what with his small, thin, nearly bony body, Asian characteristics of an unknown origin, dull brown eyes, short black hair, and the attitude of a wimp about to get wedgied into the next century. Even his own powers weren't very useful in warding off the verbal assaults he was usually subjected to, unless he used it to bribe certain individuals. However, it was the guys at the top who were interested in him and they had been the ones to brutally put a stop to his torment.

Put an emphasis on brutally and you got the severity of what they did to the others.

But it wasn't as if he was lonely in this place, far from it. He had a best friend, at least there he had more of something than anybody else except his best friend himself. That best friend was a giant of a boy, one towering over seven feet tall if not eight, his body gigantic with muscles, but he had the IQ of a sponge, if not lower. Still, it was apart of his charm and this behemoth of a person relied fully on him to think for him. That is to say, Yuuan would help him with little decisions that most people could do any day and took for granted.

Despite that, nobody messed with Sigmund since he was prone to rages whenever he, Yuuan, was being teased and taunted. Sigmund was incredibly strong, strong enough to punch holes through the reinforced concrete that surrounded them all day in and day out, but his powers resided mostly in his ability to regenerate. You could cut the guy's entire arm off and it would grow back in the same exact condition it had been before being removed. He was effortlessly scarless from all the experiments and sessions he had had with the men in white coats but the majority of damage rested in his mind. Yuuan supposed that if one was to loose all semblance of intelligence, this would be one example of it.

He and Sigmund were complete opposites in every single way except for the one thing they had in common: their lack of self-confidence. Yuuan found that he could relate to Sigmund in ways he couldn't with others and that brought him back to the reason why he was distressed.

Sigmund was leaving to go on some sort of "mission" and was going to leave him all alone, just as he had been when he was first brought here after being kidnapped.

Yuuan didn't want that, he didn't want it to happen at all.

"But why does it have to be you?!" he wailed as he tried to wrap his arms around Sigmund's waist which was engorged with muscle upon muscle that he couldn't even accomplish that feat. "Why couldn't it be somebody else?!" he continued, crushing his head against the enlarged abdominal muscles, tears streaming out of his eyes.

It wasn't as if he expected an answer. Sigmund had no understanding of this and thus was confused as to what to do. Normally when Yuuan was like this, he would go out and find what made Yuuan cry and bash it into pieces. But what could he do if he couldn't understand what it was that was making him, Yuuan, cry in the first place?

"It's not fair, it's not fair," Yuuan continued to sob. "I don't want to be alone here. Michael and Astaroth will pick on me and…and…"

Yuuan could feel those enormous yet gentle hands on he incredibly thin shoulders and with the slightest amount of his strength, Sigmund pushed him away. Yuuan looked up at the giant with red, puffy eyes from which tears continued to spill forth from.

"Yuu…" Sigmund managed to utter but nothing much else came forth. Yeah, it was a bit hard keeping one's patience when trying to communicate with a person that had an extremely hard time communicating with words but Yuuan's patience was great enough that a saint would be jealous of it. Most of the time, Yuuan only needed grunts and guttural words to be able to understand what Sigmund was trying to say. That was another difference between the two: Yuuan had a brilliant mind and an IQ to rival that of Albert Einstein and Stephen Hawking while Sigmund…didn't. But it was only to Yuuan that Sigmund could communicate to the rest of the world and there was a strong trust the two of them had to build, one where Sigmund could trust that Yuuan would say what he himself wanted to say Yuuan wouldn't betray that trust as long as Sigmund protected him from the other aggressive boys.

Yuuan stared up into Sigmund's glossy brown eyes. He could see that there was somebody in there and yet that person wasn't close to the surface. Truly, it was the one place a person could look to what the sessions had done to him. With other people, a person could see the brightness in them that symbolized life, a kind of life that could not be counterfeited no matter how hard someone tried. Sigmund's were more dead than they were alive but Yuuan could see that small trace of light in them and he knew the real Sigmund, whoever he had been before he had been experimented on, was still in there, watching yet unable to convey what he was feeling.

It was sad, really it was. There was no other way to explain it.

"Please," he continued to plea. "Don't leave me…please…"

The dead eyes stared down at him until they hardened in a way that Yuuan had only seen when the larger boy was about to do something, something big and more than likely not allowed. Who knew how many times Sigmund had been shocked by those tazers those men always carried…

The hands on his shoulders tightened and began to tug him forth. The Asian boy looked up at the giant in puzzlement, wondering what his friend was up to. As Sigmund led him to a strange piece of black material, Yuuan wondered what it was that Sigmund wanted him to do. Then he was able to pick out distinguishable features from the black material and he figured out that this thing, whatever it was made of, was some sort of suit. It was large, it had to be to fit all of Sigmund's bulk but from his internal calculations, he figured that there would be a tiny bit of room left over. This suit would be just a little bit loose on him…

And then he figured out what Sigmund wanted. Looking up at the giant in wide-eyed wonder, he let an enormous smile split his face in half. It was going to be a tight fit but as long as no one looked too closely, then they might be able to pull this off.

"Thank you," he breathed out, the tension in his body fleeing from him. "Oh thank you so much."


	4. Center of Attention

Author's Note: Before all the newbies just finding this story come to any quick conclusions, let me just say that half the OCs I'm using aren't even mine but have been leant to me by other generous authors/readers. I understand though that having a fic with a bunch of OCs might put some people off but for my latest anonymous reader, I don't know what my name is, there's a way to make OCs so much bearable and not so Mary Sue-ish. That way, is of course, to give them flaws and purposely exploit them without prejudice. The flaws don't have to be blatant, they can only be quirks of their personalities, but those quirks can be used to utterly destroy them, as most of, if not all of, you have seen in The Maxwell Project. Don't think this formula will not be used again because I will continuing using it until people get sick of it, which probably won't be happening any time soon. So, without further ado, enjoy.

Disclaimer: I do not own Gundam Wing or Frank Sinatra's _Jeepers Creepers_.

Warning: language

Center of Attention

"Will somebody get these _kids_ off of me already?!"

Duo smiled serenely at the sight as he sat on the same bench that Trowa and Dorothy had once occupied and vacated some time ago to do whatever it was those two did. Now Duo had laid claim to the bench where he took sadistic amusement in watching Solo trudge around the courtyard, orphans of all ages clinging onto him and not releasing their grips anytime soon. Now, Duo knew that Solo could throw the children off if he wanted to but that would result in the kids being hurt and then Sister Helen wouldn't be happy and Duo couldn't have that happening.

Still, Duo wanted to partake in the festivity but he didn't feel like competing against ten of those orphans, wait make that eleven. Only he could say that he had gotten a piggyback ride from Solo, even though he was pulling at the other's hair at the time, and that made him feel superior to all these other hanger-ons, especially Adrian who hadn't quite climbed up all the way to Solo's back and was hanging on to the blond's waist for dear life, even as he laughed out loud in delight.

"Hey lady!" Solo called out, catching sight of a smiling Sister Helen who was making her way towards him and the orphans. "Can ya help me out here? I can't move!"

"Of course I can," that musically whimsical voice that only this woman possessed flowed from her mouth, even as she giggled good naturally at Solo's plight. "Children? Come along now, it's almost time for dinner and you all need to wash up."

Several "awws" answered her but she didn't look the least bit put off. Instead, her sweet smile continued to grow as she got within arms' length of Solo, the top of her head barely reaching the blond's chin. With gentle hands, she pried off one of the orphans from his perch on Solo's arm, her grip firm on the squirming body as she set the child down, her hand patting the small back, urging the child to go clean up with the boy did so at a trudging pace.

Thankful that one of his limbs was free, Solo effortlessly began to pry off the others, Sister Helen coming in once and a while to help prevent Solo from removing an orphan too harshly. However, Duo noticed how gently Solo was moving as he freed himself and wondered about it. The only time he had even seen Solo act like that was with him and only him and he couldn't help but feel a little jealous. He successfully hid a glare that would have been aimed at his rival in all things but was shaken out of his thoughts as that lovely, lovely voice spoke to him again.

"Duo? Would you like to get something to eat as well?" Sister Helen asked him, her violet eyes looking down at him with fondness. Oh, how he could just be in this position forever, he would die a happy man. Sadly, she did ask him a question and he had to answer it or it would be just rude. At least, that was what she taught him anyway.

"Yes, Sister, I would like that," he answered with a bright smile on his lips.

Sister Helen held out her hand to him and like the child he mentally was, he took it and got off his bench, walking side by side with the nun as they made their way towards the dining hall.

"Can you read me a story tonight?" Duo asked, his violet eyes looking straight at the nun with childish innocence.

"Of course, Duo," Sister Helen answered him. "As soon as I tuck the others into bed, I'll tell you the story about…"

---

Watching the sight, Solo shook his head in slight exasperation. The way Duo was acting with that nun, he was like a child! Then again, he mused, this was the Kid side of Duo and not the Reaper side. Kid Duo was literally just that, a kid. Sure, his body was that of a fifteen year old but that was the thing with having multiple personalities.

Duo hadn't the choice; his personality had split into half during those sessions on the "butcher's block" so that he could cope with what had been done to him. He knew that Reaper Duo had done his best to protect Kid Duo from it but perhaps he had done too good of a job.

Or maybe he was getting jealous? Ever since they had first arrived here, Duo had been trailing after that nun and the priest like a little puppy, looking for the loving support that he craved so desperately. Before, he had depended solely on Solo and no one else, other than Reaper. Solo liked that feeling, the feeling when a person put their absolute trust in you, believing that you would never do anything to betray that trust…he had liked it, no, enjoyed it, loved being the sole defender who would take on all the threats and blows the world would throw at Duo. He could take it too, he knew that.

But now…now it was different. Now Duo was getting into God.

Ugh.

"Trouble in paradise?"

Ah, just what he needed now. Trowa was adding his two-cents into his thoughts. "What would you know?" he spat back, folding his arms over his chest but not turning around to where he knew Trowa was standing.

"You look like you want to tear the Sister apart with your bare hands," Trowa jested, coming up to the blond's side. "I know you could do that but try and refrain from that course of action. I would think Sister Helen would like being in one piece."

"What do ya take me for, some kinda monster?" Solo snorted. "I wouldn't be able ta hurt her. She's too…sweet for that. It'd be like hurtin' a kitten."

"Jealous that Duo's hogging up all of her attention?" Trowa suggested, his visible emerald eye gleaming with mirth.

"It's not that," Solo answered but choosing not to elaborate.

"Or maybe you're jealous because Duo's focused on her and not you," Trowa mused. Eyeing the blond, he asked, "Is there something about yourself that you're not telling me…?"

"I ain't queer," Solo snapped, tightening his arms.

"I wasn't suggesting that," Trowa replied but anybody who was listening knew that was a blatant lie. "Maybe it's a sibling thing. You the older brother and Duo the younger. Maybe you're afraid that Duo is going to grow up and leave you?"

"He wouldn't be da first," Solo muttered.

"I don't think you should be worried about that," Trowa told him. "If you decided to leave tomorrow, I'm sure that Duo will be right on your heels."

"If you say so," Solo groused. Snapping his eyes to the side, he noticed that the guy from the church was looking at him. His eyes narrowed. What was that guy's deal? Why was he looking at him and Duo all the time? This was something that he made a mental note to figure out before going to bed that night. Enough was enough already!

But first, he needed to go and stuff his gullet first.

---

Duo snuggled under his covers, his eyes watching Sister Helen adoringly as she finished up telling him a bedtime story, a story that he had forgotten what it was about since he was too distracted by Sister Helen's lulling voice.

He was too far gone, even as his eyelids grew heavy, but he was still aware of the nun's soft lips pecking him on the forehead gently as her melodic voice wished him a good night. As he drifted off into slumber, the Sister's kind voice kept echoing inside of his head, soothing away any nightmare that might try to attack him in his sleep.

Beyond the now closed door, a tune played out in the hallway, a song that was all too familiar to certain ears…

---

"Something troubling you my son?"

Solo jerked his head up and whipped around in his pew to discover the sight of the large Father Maxwell. Startled was too weak a word to describe what the blond was feeling; he hadn't expected someone as big as this priest to be able to sneak up on someone like him. Hell, his internal alarms hadn't even gone off and that in and of itself was worrisome.

When he made no move or attempt to answer the priest's question, the elder man smiled kindly at him and moved around the pew, taking a seat next to the young teen. "Your mind seems preoccupied this night," Father Maxwell commented. "Is it a common occurrence?"

Solo shook his head in the negative. Already his face was creasing into a frown as he shifted uncomfortably in his seat. He didn't like this, this feeling of being…dirty as he sat next to a man that was pure compared to him. Yeah, he was dirty; how many times had he broken any of those Commandments, in particular that one about "Thou shall not kill?" One too many times than he cared to count.

"What is troubling you?" the Father asked pleasantly. "Perhaps I might be able to take some of the burden off of your shoulders."

"An' do what with it?" Solo snorted, speaking for the first time. "Give it ta God?"

"Not at all," Father Maxwell replied, not in the least offended by the comment. It wasn't the worst he had ever heard before and one needed to grow a thick skin so that they didn't rush to rashly defend their faith.

"Then why are ya botherin'?" Solo snarked.

"I'm not going out of my way for this," the Father answered. "It is my calling, to help others with whatever problems they have, be it the physical kind, the emotional, or even the spiritual."

Solo snorted rudely. "Yeah, well, my problems ain't da kind that can be solved by prayin'. 'Sides, you couldn't do anything 'bout them even if ya wanted ta."

"What makes you think that?" Father Maxwell asked in reply. "How are your problems so great that I can not help you with them? Could it be that you wish to deal with them yourself? Or are your troubles that terrible?"

"You have no idea," Solo said, smirking slightly to himself.

"Well surely there must be something I can do to help you," the priest continued. "Think about it; not all your problems can be as massive as you think they are."

Images of Duo fawning over the nun and even this man flashed through the blond's head but he shoved those away. Why would this old man even want to hear about something like that? Briefly, he entertained the thought of maybe using the guy to hold on to Ms. Eyebrows but put it aside with only a mental note that said he would think about it later. Hmm, well what about this?

"I've noticed this other guy around, starin' at me," he finally said. "He's hangin' around in this place somewhere and he's annoyin' me already."

"Other man?" Father Maxwell repeated, puzzled, a sudden flash of recognition sparking in his eyes. "Oh, you're probably talking about my brother."

"Huh?" was Solo's eloquent reply as he stared at the man. "Your…brother?"

"Sister Helen and I are not the only ones who inhabit this church, along with the orphanage," Father Maxwell said, his eyes twinkling. "My brother, James, came here a few years ago, searching for sanctuary. As a man of God, I couldn't refuse and besides, he is my brother. He was very troubled about something and he's only dropped little bits of what demons were haunting him. Ever since then, he has been searching for forgiveness, for what, he has never fully explained."

"And how does that answer why he's been staring at me?" Solo stated bluntly. "What is he? A pedo?"

"Excuse me?" Father Maxwell said, blinking.

"Ya know, a pedophile."

"Oh course he isn't," the priest laughed. "But I will convey your annoyance to him and maybe get him to stop."

Blinking at this, Solo was stunned. This guy was actually gonna do that? But why would he? He wasn't going to get anything out of it, so why? It made no sense to him; he had lived on the unforgiving streets for as long as he could remember, not counting his time spent as a living guinea pig. Everybody had a motive to do something, a selfish motive.

"What's in it for you?" he demanded, his eyes narrowing.

"Nothing," the priest answered, smiling kindly at him.

"So why are ya gonna do that?"

"Because it will help you, at least on some level, and I want to. Do you not want me to help you?"

"It ain't like that," Solo said, waiving the matter away. "You do whatever ya want. I think I'm gonna go hit da hay."

"Before you go, I want you to remember something," Father Maxwell said, stopping the blond from leaving. "No man is an island. Don't be afraid to ask for help if you need it. Not everybody is out to stab you in your back."

"Thanks…I think," Solo said, confused about where such words were coming from. Why did this guy say that and what prompted him to do it?

_Jeepers creepers, where'd you get those peepers?_

Solo felt his blood run cold and it wasn't from what that priest said. No, this was something else, something more deadly.

_Jeepers creepers, where'd you get those eyes?_

"Is something else the matter?" Father Maxwell asked pleasantly.

"Is that…" he started, his voice failing him.

"_Jeepers Creepers_ by Frank Sinatra? It's James' favorite song," Father Maxwell answered, unaware of the danger that not only he but everyone in the nearby vicinity was in.

"Shit!" Solo swore as he spun on his heels and ran out of the church, much to the priest's surprise, the man getting up and following after, heading towards the room that the blond shared with his braided partner-in-crime.

_Jeepers creepers, where'd you get those peepers?_

_Oh those weepers, how they hypnotize_

He had just turned down into the correct hallway just as the door to their room exploded into tiny splinters by an unseen force, a bright crimson light flaring out through the broken doorway.

"What on earth…?" Father Maxwell gasped, staring at the unexpected violence.

Stepping forth into the hallway was the one and only thing that had ever scared Solo shitless. It was Duo, the cold blooded, serial killer, machine Duo to be precise, his blank facial expression the one thing that confirmed it as he caught sight of the blond and the priest.

_Where'd you get those eyes?_

"Oh fuck," Solo said as he slowly began backing away, pushing the priest behind him before mentally saying _fuck it_ and shouting out, "_RUN!_" Father Maxwell didn't even question the order but the two of them didn't get very far as both ran into a solid wall of time. The next thing the blond knew, both of them were encased in time, frozen in their prone, standing positions. Solo was glad that the priest wasn't able to look behind them as he, Solo, was facing the emotionless Duo as he approached them, terror ripping his insides apart with every step that was taken closer to them.

Catching movement, Solo snapped his eyes up and saw to his horror that the nun was coming onto the scene, her every movement radiating confusion. "Duo?" she said aloud, the braided killing machine stopping in his tracks and slowly turning around to face her.

Solo had to give the gal props, she did not panic like a typical girl would but she did gasp out in fright when Duo's crimson eyes landed on her, making her his new target. He slowly came upon her like a prowling cat, each of his footsteps deliberate and it seemed like to Solo that the Sister couldn't move. Duo must've froze her too…

"Duo?" Sister Helen managed to speak, much to Solo's astonishment, "what's wrong? What happened to you?"

As soon as the voice stopped, Solo felt something, something that was different and it was changing with every step that Duo was taking. His mind came to quick realization when he found himself about to move just a tiny bit that Duo's hold on him and the Father was weakening. This was his chance to break free and take advantage of Duo's inattention so that he could stop this all before it became tragic.

"Duo? You can talk to me," Helen said, looking pleadingly at the boy. "Tell me what's wrong, please…"

Using all the strength in his enhanced body, Solo strained against his restraints until he felt it shatter and release him. He didn't stop to marvel at this but instead shot off at Duo, crossing the distance in only a couple of seconds. Grabbing the braided one by his shoulder, he spun him around and backhanded him, holding back his awesome strength since he didn't want to accidentally decapitate his one and only friend.

Duo remained stocked still for what seemed like hours but was only about a minute before his eyes began blinking and Solo could see, much to his relief, that he was coming back.

And then the mouth made its appearance.

"What the fuck is going on?!" Reaper Duo demanded before degrading into a spew of swear words and curses, a few of which Solo was sure he had never heard before and a couple of which he had to admit were pretty original. Solo could see above Duo's head the look that Sister Helen was casting at Duo's back and he had to stifle whatever laughter that was threatening to bubble out of his mouth. She had only seen the innocent side of Duo before, not this foul-mouthed version of him who was even teaching her new words as he spoke.

"SILENCE!" a strong voice thundered and Duo's tirade stopped immediately as he blinked owlishly. Solo didn't want to admit but he was startled by that unexpected order. Slowly, he peeked around and saw, much to his surprise and ire, Father Maxwell, the man looking frazzled but otherwise not the worse for wear. Letting a small, relieved smile form on his lips, he said, "I think that's enough swearing in this House of God this day, child."

"Son of a bitch," Duo swore under his breath as he remembered where he was exactly, Solo wincing as he heard the swear and hoping, for some reason, that it hadn't been heard.

It was heard but Father Maxwell didn't reprimand him, instead chuckling at it. "Have it all out of your system, my son?" he asked goodheartedly.

"Sorry," Duo muttered, his crimson eyes looking away from anything other than the large priest.

"Mayhap I am not the only one you should be apologizing to," Father Maxwell said.

His brow furrowing in confusion, he looked up at the priest questioning only to receive a gesture to turn around. Doing so, his crimson eyes widened to whole new proportions not just in shock but in horror as well. "Oh God!" he practically sobbed out as he fell to his knees, looking like a lost child.

It was a look that Sister Helen was all too familiar with and her mind snapped back into its maternal customs as she moved towards the boy, taking him into her arms like a mother would and began to rock soothingly, forestalling the hysterics that were sure to come. Solo, feeling a bit out of place, rubbed the back of his head as he backed away.

"Ssh, Duo, sssshhhh, it's okay, I'm okay, I'm not hurt in anyway, it's okay," Sister Helen soothed, rubbing Duo's back.

"I'm sorry, I couldn't help it, I'm so sorry," Duo gasped out, his voice revealing how close he was to actual tears. Solo was amazed by that; there was no time in his memory that he ever recalled Duo, both Duos to be exact, ever shed a tear and now here was Reaper, the more aggressive one, on the verge of doing such a thing. Yet he did nothing; he knew not how to handle such a situation and felt it best to leave it to an expert.

"It's all right, no one was hurt," Helen continued to murmur to the boy.

"It's not!" Duo nearly wailed. "I can't control it! Next time, next time I might…might…" At this point, he nearly did dissolve into tears but he made some strange huffing sounds, as if trying to keep it all in.

"What?" Father Maxwell spoke, his voice soft. "What might you do?"

"Kill…" Duo whispered into the air, silence deadening all who heard it.

Yet Sister Helen did not hesitate for a second as she continued to comfort him. "You wouldn't," she told him, "I know you wouldn't…"

"I would," Duo said hoarsely. "It's a conditioned response. Whenever I hear that song…those words in that order, it takes me over and I kill…"

"He didn't…"

This was a new voice, one that hadn't been apart of this drama. All the participants snapped their heads up to find the interloper and Solo found it to be the guy who had been staring at him, the person that Father Maxwell had called his brother. However, before Solo could even move to try and corner the guy, Duo had shot out from his spot, leaving Sister Helen holding nothing but air. With a physical strength that he wouldn't have credited to the other, Duo had grabbed the man by the front of his garments and had swung him into a wall.

"YOU!" Duo bellowed, a furious rage in his voice that Solo had never heard before. Duo looked as if he was about to tear the poor guy apart but then began blinking confusedly before tightening his grip and demanding, "Who are you?!"

"Duo," Father Maxwell said sternly, "put him down."

"Yeah, I'm da one that's suppose ta do that," Solo added.

Looking back at the two, Duo let go of the man and backed away but his crimson eyes returned to keep an eye on the man with a suspicious stare. Through it all, the man in question, James, had remained unruffled and had calmly accepted it all.

"You probably have some questions you'd like to be answered," he said, as if nothing that had just occurred happened. "If you'll collect the other one, I will answer all and more, if you wish it."

Frowning, Solo demanded, "What da hell are you talkin' about?"

"The reason as to why you've been given special abilities," the man replied without hesitation. "In fact, I can tell you all there is to know about Project Maxwell and what it has to do with all of you."


	5. Project Maxwell

Author's Note: Here it is, the chapter you've all been waiting for since The Maxwell Project: just what _exactly_ is Project Maxwell all about? How answers come here and more, along with some twists and a boost of plot to get the blood boiling. Enjoy the peace and calm you've been experiencing thus far because the boat's about to be rocked and it ain't gonna be gentle either. Enjoy.

Disclaimer: I do not own Gundam Wing.

Warning: language, disturbing depravity

Project Maxwell

Believe it or not, Trowa was the type of person who could go about with as little sleep as a person could possibly have and still function like a regular human being. Not that he did such a thing on a regular basis, mind you, but he could do it if he wanted to. So when Solo came in and told him to get his ass in gear and follow him, he had shrugged as if it wasn't a big deal and had followed after him, checking on Catherine one last time before actually leaving.

He had no idea as to what Solo wanted with him but he refrained from asking since he was sure that his questions would be answered momentarily. The large blond led him into the chapel of the church where the unibanged young man found the priest and nun who had taken them in, Duo, and an unfamiliar man that he had noticed watching him from time to time. As soon as the two of them entered, the man looked up, his eyes focusing straight on him for a full minute before lowering and looking elsewhere.

As if he hadn't noticed that, Solo strode forward and leaned against the back of a pew with his arms crossed, his green eyes staring the man down. "Okay, he's here, now spill," the blond ordered.

Trowa frowned at that but only moved so that he could sit down on another pew, making sure he had a good vantage point to watch the proceedings that were about to happen.

The man who seemed to be the center of attention looked at him again, this time with an uneasy smile that was sad in some way that Trowa couldn't place it. "It's been a while, hasn't it, 10001?" the man said aloud.

Trowa found his body freezing up. It had been years, nearly a decade since he had last been called that. It was a name that he had fought to forget about for years as all it did with bring back the nightmarish visions of a past he wanted to have nothing to do with. How did that man know that name?

"I'm not surprised," the man continued with Trowa made no attempt to answer him. "I haven't seen you in years and I'm just as surprised to see you alive as you are to hear your old name. Allow me to reintroduce myself; my name is James. James Maxwell. How about yourself?"

"Trowa," he answered numbly, as if in a trance before he shook his head, memories of a time long forgotten resurfacing again despite the action.

This time the man's smile became warmer, "It's nice to hear that you have your own name. I don't think I could stand using those numbers to talk with you anyhow."

"Ya done blabbering?" Solo interrupted. "Ya said you was gonna answer our questions about somethin' called Project Maxwelt."

"Maxwell," James corrected. "And yes, I did say that, didn't I?"

"How's about you start at the beginning and stop stalling?" Duo suggested from his seat next to Sister Helen, his eyes crimson still, Trowa noticed.

"The beginning," the man sighed. "That's a good place to start. I guess you could say it all began years ago, when I was still a child. I loved reading comic books back then, especially the ones about superheros and others with special powers. Out of all of them, X-men were my favorite since all of them were born with their powers. That got me to wondering, if such a thing was possible and since others were given their powers through unnatural means, was there a way to give a normal, everyday person powers? Nobody took me seriously back then because I was just a kid with an overactive imagination, one that got me into a lot of trouble as my brother here can attest to when we were growing up."

At that point, James paused and looked up to Father Maxwell who smiled knowingly at the man. Trowa raised an eyebrow in surprise at that but did not comment any further. Neither did Solo who didn't express any surprise at this though Duo did choke.

"I never really gave it up though," James continued, "I just put it on the back burner when I became the laughing stock of my school and my family began to think I was losing my mind. However, I got back into the idea just as I was graduating college and with new knowledge and information, I began to really explore my childhood idea and I actually got quite a bit far with it.

"But everything costs money and if I wanted to go on with it, I needed to get a sponsor or sponsors to grant me the money I needed to continue. So I did the only thing I could at the time; I went to the World's Fair, the largest gathering of scientific knowledge and inventions assembled in one place and showcased to a large, receptive audience. Even there I was looked at as a mild curiosity and I overheard many a visitor joke about my work. It was discouraging, to say the least, but I endured. There were only two peoples' opinions that really mattered in my mind."

"And who were they?" Trowa asked when James ceased to talk and didn't seem to be continuing.

"The heads of, at that time, the two largest corporations in the World, Raberba Winner and Romafellor," James finally spoke. "I don't remember Romafellor's first name but then I doubt anybody does. Anyway, I made my presentation to them when one and then the other approached my booth. I desperately hoped that either of them would see the potential that my work held and would sponsor further progress. What happened was Mr. Romafellor said it was an interesting idea but it was nothing more than a child's fantasy and that I should give up on it. Mr. Winner, who had just inherited his father's company and had taken the position the man had held, was nicer about his declination and advised me not to quit my day job.

"As you well can imagine, the setbacks were devastating and I guess I was too much in a stupor to pack up and leave. Everything that I had done up to that point, all of my life's work, had come to nothing. What was I to do? Join the ministry like my brother or find a 'day job' that I did not have? It was towards the end of the day that I was approached again, this time by someone else. He was young, charismatic, and he had a great interest with my work. Since I saw no reason not to, I explained to him everything that I had at the time. Instead of rebuffing me like Romafellor and Winner before him, he praised me and said that he would sponsor me just as long as I was able to help him with his then fledgling company the X Associates, Incorporated, or XAI for short."

"Wait a minute," Solo interrupted. "Where's da military come into this? Aren't they da ones who were responsible for this?"

"The military," James snorted, "they had no interest at the time and didn't give me the time of day either. You see, the man who expressed interest in my work was named Janus Xavien and he is the one that put Project Maxwell together. Once he put a lab together for me, I began to produce, just like he wanted. From that lab, I helped to unravel the human genome and create the latest gene therapy procedures that everyone knows about today. The mysteries of life were unfolding in the palm of my hands and every single bit of information I uncovered I passed along to Xavien who would use it to boost his company up until it was a rival for both Winner Enterprises and the Romafellor Corporation. By the end of the second year, I was finally beginning to uncover the very secrets that I had been trying to get my hands on since I was a child, the way to evolve an average person into a superhuman. A series of formulas and procedures were concocted and then we turned to our first subjects

"It is something that will haunt me for the rest of my days…"

James stopped as he buried his face into his hands, his shoulders shaking and trembling with the emotions running rampant in his body. Trowa could only stare as it began to dawn on him just what, or should he say who, exactly were the "first subjects."

"They were humans, weren't they?" he asked aloud, dreading the answer that he was expecting.

"I wanted to try it all on animals first," James answered as he lifted his head up, his eyes expressing an unseen horror and sent a shiver down everyone's spines, including Solo, "but that was when I learned who Xavien really is. He's a manipulator, he knows how to play games with a person's mind, and at the time he was engrossing himself more and more into the project. With some sort of bizarre logic, he convinced me to skip animal testing, saying that the purpose of my work was specifically for humans and humans alone. He wore me down and I made my deal with the devil himself and agreed. My soul is surely damned for that and that alone.

"He didn't tell me anything about the people he brought in, didn't tell me that they were all there against their wills. One procedure after another we tried but all of them died, all in so much pain that it comes back to me in my nightmares. You see, in order for the formula to achieve its full potential, that is changing a person's DNA, it has to reach all the DNA a person has, the one in the nucleus in a cell and the other located in the mitochondria. Otherwise, the solution would fail and the body would reject it. It was determined that a liquid form injected straight into the blood stream would be the best way to achieve this but time and again we were met with failure. It was only by accident that we found out how to get the solution, specifically the one we called Solution 1051, to mix with the DNA.

"Electricity. Firing a jolt of it excited the electrons in both the formula and the person's cells. The cells began to absorb more of it and more it was able to get to both of the DNA's and change them. Out of the entire sample of test subjects, only one was able to survive."

"Me," Trowa said. "I was the only survivor? Why?"

"To this day I still don't know," James answered, "but you were the first, the first success we had and when you began to show signs of superhuman abilities, we knew and rejoiced. Then Xavien expanded the program; I was instructed to research the final formula, Solution 1051, more and refine it while more tests were performed on you, Trowa. Soon, new influxes of subjects were being brought in and from there we learned other things, such as the fact that females are somehow allergic to the solution. I've done more research in that area and concluded that females have not enough testosterone and too much estrogen, which reacts violently with the formula. One day altogether, Xavien stopped kidnapping those of the fairer gender and focused more on those who were masculine. Age eventually became another factor in survival rates as well; a boy just entering puberty is changing physiologically and is more susceptible to the changes forced upon it. Adults always died off and full fledged teenagers couldn't take it for too long and all died off over time, always before any of the desired results showed their selves.

"There are other factors I could go over but I'll save that for another time. To get to the point, young boys were the only possible test subjects we could get who had a high enough survival rate. After ten years working on Project Maxwell, everything changed."

At this, James stopped and looked pointedly at Trowa who frowned for a second before realizing exactly what the man was alluding to. "I escaped," he said.

"Wait, what?!" Solo blurted out. "But I never even heard of you before! How could you have escaped before me an' Duo?!"

"The answer is simple really," James supplied. "Xavien does not like being shown up; he hates it, loathes it. So when Trowa here escaped…how did you escape again?"

"I burrowed through the ground by using plant roots," Trowa said, his eyes twinkling with reminiscence of the memory.

"That's right. By the way, that was ingenious," James said. "At the time, the research facility was aboveground and not as secured as Xavien believed it to be. When Trowa showed him up, he was like a beast. For the first time, I saw Xavien's real self and it wasn't pretty to watch. He rampaged through the labs and destroyed so much before he got a hold of himself. Once he did that though, he had everything moved to a more secured location, a bunker deep underground, one located in the deserts of Western North America. Xavien changed the procedures, except for the essential ones, and when the next batches of subjects came in, he had them educated and brainwashed into loyalty, trying to wipe away all independent and rebellious thoughts and destroy all remembrance of his embarrassment. I didn't question it, I was afraid to. Xavien had changed; he was more ruthless, more conscienceless, more depraved. He was being corrupted by Project Maxwell, but I always had a feeling that maybe he was already corrupted before starting the project. It just seemed that more of his hidden traits were coming to light as he took a more central role in it.

"After about three years of this, living in fear every waking moment, I stumbled upon some files from Xavien's personal computer. I don't know how they were where they were when I found them but I looked into them. It was then that I found out about the government contract that had been made just when Xavien had moved the researched facility. I found out about how he had altered Solution 1051, making it a "Fountain of Youth" serum which he injected into himself. I admit, that did explain why he seemed to age so little, especially after Trowa's surviving the experiments, in the thirteen years since I first met him. He was making himself immortal, or trying to do so, and my work was allowing him to do this. But that wasn't all, not by a long shot. He was producing a more remedial of the altered Solution 1051, making it so that its effects were so miniscule and then placing it into his cosmetic products, like wrinkle creams and hair conditioners, that were sold to the public by XAI. He was even going as far as to use it as a "health product" to loose weight quickly. People were suffering and dying from the products and Xavien was always able to cast aside any blame that might be aimed at him and XAI should any be made. Nobody was the wiser of his schemes and I couldn't take it anymore.

"So, I gathered all the work and data that I could get my hands onto, deleting all that had been reported in or stored, and then making my own escape. I've been running ever since but I'm not the type of person who can move from place to place without settling down. I needed to stop and I found the only place where Xavien wouldn't think to look for me: the very place in which we are now sitting in."

Coming to an end, James stopped, his shoulders slumping in as if he had just torn his very existence asunder and displayed it all for everyone to see. Wrinkles all over face creased, making him look exactly like an old man.

"So that's it?" Solo asked. "That's all?"

"Were you expecting something else?" Trowa challenged.

"No," Solo said. "I was expecting this guy to do more than just run away."

"You do not know Xavien," James said. "If I had done anything else, I would have been dead."

"So?" Solo retorted, not in the least swayed. "There were times when I wished I coulda died so that I wouldn't have ta be anyone's guinea pig anymore. But here I am, alive, and I ain't lettin' any of those guys walk over me."

"What guys?" James asked, frowned.

"Those assholes are chicken shit," Solo stated with scorn. "They're sending all the other guys they worked on after us, tryin' to capture us and all that shit."

James had paled. "Oh God no. They'll be coming here!"

Solo blinked at that. "Huh, I guess they will. Hadn't thought about that…"

"What do you mean you 'hadn't thought about that'?" Duo demanded, crimson eyes flaring.

"Well excuse me!" Solo barked back. "I didn't see you thinkin' 'bout it either! Ya was too busy chasing after that nun's skirt da whole time!"

"And perhaps we should all calm down before this gets out of hand," Father Maxwell intervened. "I know that we all are…overwhelmed with this and I believe we should all get some rest and come back to this in the morning when everybody's had some time to sleep about it."

"But…" James protested.

"No buts," Father Maxwell said firmly. "It's late and we are all most likely on out last dregs. Let us all go to bed and then resume this when we are all fresh in the morning."

"That sounds like a good idea," Trowa agreed. "What about you two?" he asked, turning to the other enhanced humans in the chapel.

Solo stared Trowa down for a moment before shrugging his shoulders and saying, "Fine." Duo, seeing that being a part of the opposition would be a losing battle nodded his agreement.

"Then it is settled," Father Maxwell declared, his large hands clapping together in finality, much to the dismayed look on James' face.

---

It was a little while later that James was disturbed again just as he was doing what the majority had voted to do earlier. Much to his surprise, it was none of other than his brother who had a stern look on his face.

"What didn't you say earlier?" he asked, his voice giving no choice of refusal. "I know you James and you purposely omitted it. What was it?"

James stared at his brother emotionlessly before seemingly crumpling in on himself. "You were always able to look right through me, John. Yes, I did leave something out."

Father John Maxwell nodded his head but said nothing else, waiting expectantly for his answer.

Sighing, James said, "Xavien had expanded the project while still in the initial stages. About fifteen to sixteen years ago, he had kidnapped a woman but instead of adding her to be a recipient of the experiments like the others, he harvested all of her ovaries. It was the beginning of the other, darker side of Project Maxwell: to see if there was a way to use Solution 1051 as amniotic fluids and create test tube babies that would be soaked in and born from them. It was my belief that all of them had died off or had mutated into abnormal forms and weren't able to survive for long. I did not know what happened to the woman…at least until after I had ran out."

"You don't…" Father Maxwell's eyes widened.

"Poor Helen," James sighed as he looked up at his brother pleadingly, as if seeking some sort of absolution. "Not everyone that's suffered from Project Maxwell has died." Sighing again, he spoke, "He looks so much like her…"

"I know," Father Maxwell agreed. "I had thought that it was just a coincidence but now you've only confirmed my suspicions as well as answered some other questions I have had over the years."

"Do you think she could ever forgive me?" James whispered pitifully.

Giving his younger brother a small smile, he sat next to the other man and embraced him. "There's more than one reason why Helen chose to enter the service of God. I do not believe that you were the one responsible for the trials Helen had to face while in the captivity of that man but if you believe you are responsible then you should seek her forgiveness. Young Solo does have a point; you've always run whenever things began to become overwhelming for you."

"I know," James whimpered.

"And since you know, you should take the first steps towards atonement," Father Maxwell instructed. "You have begun already by telling those who can do something about this. Don't stop now. You've made your mistakes, we all have. Now is the time to make up for them, to atone for them. We live but one life and one day, I promise you, this will be all over."

"How do you know that?" James asked, looking more like a child than an adult.

"Do you really think those young men are going to let Xavien and his company get away with what they did?" Father Maxwell replied with a slight smirk. "They can undo what has been done. Just put some faith into them. They will come through mainly because they are just too stubborn not to."

* * *

For **i don't know what my name is**: Ah, that's a little secret of mine that I'm going to tell you about right now! You see, I'm several chapters ahead right now, at about fourteen as of now and working on fifteen. Amazing, eh? Now, I know what you're thinking: why would I write that much in the first place? Simple; it's a failsafe in case I get writer's block. If such a travesty were to occur, and believe me it's happened, I would still be able to update the story on a regular basis. That way, you don't have to wait an agonizing long time for the next update and still get your fix as I struggle to produce and write. Until next time, my friend, your awe fills makes me giddy so don't hesitate to praise me. (hint hint: It just makes me want to write more.)


	6. Verbal Sparring

Author's Note: Calling out to all readers, I need some more OCs! Because I like looking towards the future, I have foreseen a time with my almighty author powers that I will need more cattle for the slaught—er, I mean more OCs that I can exploit and unfortunately, I am drawing one too many blanks. So please, pretty please, care to help an unfortunate soul out?

Any way, I would like to pause and mention that I am using ShadowMajin's OC that he made for me a while ago, an OC by the name of Mudball and I hope I got this guy right. Enjoy.

Disclaimer: I do not own Gundam Wing or ShadowMajin's Mudball.

Warning: language

Verbal Sparring

The early morning sun made the world seem more paler than usual, at least to Jason it did. Everything looked so new and the fresh crisp air that rammed into him the moment he emerged from the van was a welcomed feeling as he took in a lungful of it.

"So which direction did they last head in?" he heard Wufei suddenly speak, shattering the picturesque feelings the Wind Master was experiencing.

Looking over to the white clad form, he answered, "Give me a moment." While he and the others were dressed in the customary black, Wufei had refused all uniforms offered him, preferring to stick his own Chinese silks instead.

However, there was a reason why Jason had requested some breathing room; he needed to get his bearings. Being underground always had the effect of throwing his sense of direction off since there is little to no air belowground, the base itself the exception to the rule.

As he let himself become reacquainted with the surface, he let himself observe the other two teammates that Wufei had requested. One was the behemoth known as Sigmund and even that word, behemoth, was stretching it. The guy was enormous, larger than Solo, Jason was sure of, and his body was one hundred percent muscle. Yeah, he had superstrength but that wasn't his primary ability. He had the enviable ability of regeneration. You could tear half of his body into pieces but he could just regrow the rest of himself and then kick your ass. If Solo and Sigmund were on the same spectrum, they would be complete opposites; both of them were incredibly strong and both were invincible in their own ways but whereas Solo still had his brain, Sigmund…didn't.

The other one was a short, fat, brown haired, brown eyed boy that repulsed Jason in a more hygienic way than anything. "Mudball" was what he called himself and he had the power to control the earth. He loved rocks and dirt and all that stuff so much that he had he had managed to avoid taking a shower for years, which showed up in the coats of grime all over him (and his uniform as well) and his greasy hair that somebody could probably fry French fries in.

Currently, Mudball had taken the opportunity to fall down into the dirt and roll around while Sigmund was standing there in a too-tight uniform. They had been guessing on Sigmund's size but apparently everything was just too small for the guy.

Closing his eyes and focusing, he felt all the air around and beyond him and through it began to extend his senses. He could feel all four of them, five if you took into account Sigmund's entire body since he was almost like two people, but he pushed that aside as his awareness continued to grow and grow in an ever increasing circular area. He could sense the various centers of civilization but none of them had those telltale giveaways that caused their two targets to stick out.

…And there they were.

"That way," he spoke suddenly, his eyes flashing open and he pointed in the correct direction.

"Are you sure?" Wufei questioned.

"Positive," Jason answered, his arm lowering.

Wufei eyed him speculatively but then turned in the direction Jason had pointed in. Looks like he was going to trust him on this one. Well, it wasn't like Jason was affronted by any doubt. He knew what he was doing and if Wufei didn't trust his judgment, then it would be his fault since he was the new leader of their ragtag group.

Sigmund was shifting uncomfortably in his suit and Mudball was too busy rubbing dirt all over himself when Wufei uttered out a sharp order. Sigmund continued to shift in place while Mudball got to his feet begrudgingly but looked down longingly at the ground.

Of course, those hard feelings were soon replaced as Mudball spoke in a snotty way. "So we're goin' in some random direction all because that fairy over there stuck his finger in the air and said they were thataway?"

"Silence," Wufei ordered sternly. "I am in charge and you will do as I tell you and I am ordering you to go in the direction that Jason has pointed in."

"Yeah, yeah," Mudball grumbled as Sigmund unzipped his uniform in an attempt to make it less constricting.

At least that was what Jason thought he was doing until an additional head popped out of his suit, a certain black headed boy that he recognized immediately.

"Hey!" he bellowed. "What do you think you're doing?"

Yuuan's head snapped around to look at him in fear while Wufei and Mudball looked over at them to see what was going on. Sigmund was already prepared to go to his small friend's defense but Jason wasn't about to take that step just yet. Neither of these two were Mobias and thus he had no beef with them. At least not yet.

"What's he doing here?" Jason demanded sternly as he crossed his arms over his chest, not intimidated by the overwhelming size of Sigmund as the other towered over him. "I thought that there were only suppose to be four of us, not five!"

"Stand down," Wufei ordered Jason, forcing Sigmund and Yuuan's attentions towards him, one in fear and the other uncertain. Turning towards the two, Wufei picked up where Jason had left off. "He raises a good point; I requested only you and not the one you're hiding. What's your excuse?"

Sigmund grunted and groaned unintelligibly for a minute and Wufei's frown increased with each and every passing second that he didn't understand a word from the giant. Mudball, however, was taking the chance to laugh his ass off at the Chinese youth's frustrations until said Chinese glared him into silence.

Turning his glare back to Sigmund and Yuuan, he demanded, "Well? And make sense with your words this time."

"He can't…speak correctly," Yuuan mumbled from his place in Sigmund's suit, his face blushing as all attention focused on him.

"What do you mean he can't 'speak correctly?'" Wufei questioned, his eyes narrowing.

"Exactly that," Yuuan answered in a small whisper, shrinking further down Sigmund's back.

"He's right about that," Mudball agreed grudgingly. "The guy can't say a word right to save his life. He's like a caveman or somethin'."

Raising an eyebrow at this, Wufei looked back at Jason to see whether or not his leg was being pulled. Unfortunately, Jason could only agree with them by means of a nod. Wufei then swore to himself in a language none of them could understand but knew that it had to be some sort of swear word.

When he did begin speaking English, a language all of them could understand, again, he asked of Yuuan, "Can you explain what you're doing here? Please, if only to put me at ease."

"Sig only wanted to protect me," Yuuan whispered. "He just wanted to protect me…"

"From what?" Wufei exclaimed exasperatedly.

"The other guys," Yuuan answered in a quiet voice. "They always pick on me and use me."

"Guilty!" Mudball said aloud, admitting that he had been one those who had taken part in such things and not in the least repentant about it. At least, he wasn't until Sigmund leveled a glare down at him and the filthy boy took a couple steps away nervously.

Wufei sighed in exasperation, as if wondering why this kind of stuff always happened to him. "Well, we're on our own now," he said aloud, "and we're not going to just wait for a transport to return and take you back. You'll stay with us for the meantime until the mission has been brought to a close but you will stay out of our way, understand?"

"Yes," Yuuan gulped.

"Alright, now get out of there and walk like the rest of us," Wufei ordered. "Jason, lead us towards the targets and use the shortest routes possible. I want to subdue them no later than tomorrow morning."

"Yeah, yeah," Jason grumbled as the wind picked up around him and informed him that their targets had not moved in the last few minutes. Informing the rest, he took the lead in leading them towards their destination.

---

"Don't you have other people you can annoy?" Xavien sighed irritably as he threw a subtle glare at the large form of Brigadier General Katsaris. "I have a lot of work that needs to be done and not all of it involves Project Maxwell. I have a company to keep up and running and you sitting there, watching my every waking moment, is not productive in any way."

Katsaris snorted and crossed his legs. "General Septum ordered me to keep an eye on you."

"I don't think he meant it this literally," Xavien grumbled, scowling down at some paperwork. "I'm a very busy man, General, so why don't you go on and do whatever it is you do when you're not here bugging me?"

"No can do," Katsaris replied smugly. "Watching you is the only thing that I do around here. I have no life outside of my work so I'm going to be right at your side, watching your every move everyday until Septum sends word for me to leave and not until then."

"You could at least make yourself useful," Xavien retorted.

"I am not your employee," Katsaris retorted. "I work for the American military and Septum is the only person that can order me around. I have no contract with XAI so you're shit out of luck, aren't you?"

Xavien narrowed his eyes but refused to go on with the verbal sparring between him and the General. It was a waste of time that could better be put to use elsewhere. However, he still had the urge to throttle the other, larger man, something that he wouldn't be able to do under normal circumstances such as this. Katsaris was just too big and strong for him. He'd be crushed and besides, that wasn't his style.

But that wasn't where his frustration ended, oh no. There was Septum himself who seemed to enjoy throwing wrenches in his plans lately and calling him at least once a day for some kind of progress on Project Maxwell. Then there were the escaped weapons #11085 and #12093 who were running about and refusing to cooperate. Last but not least, he had to deal with the everyday cat-and-mouse games that he played with his two competitive business rivals: Romafeller and WEI. At least some things were going his way with that last one; neither of those two were aware of Project Maxwell and that's how he wanted to keep things for the time being. Keeping a lid on any piece of information that might get out about the project was difficult but it was _worth_ it, so he felt.

But something was going to have to be done about the two other items that were on the top of his list of things that needed to be taken care of. Noventa had always been a thorn in not only Septum's side but his own as well and the fact that the Admiral had knowledge of the project was more than unnerving. Not for the first time did he entertain ideas for ridding himself of the annoyance only to make a promise to himself that an opportunity to take care of the man, permanently, would come up eventually and when it did, he would take advantage of it. As for 11085 and 12093, that dilemma was taking up one too many resources at it was. The longer those two remained beyond his grasp, the larger the chance of them blowing Project Maxwell's cover grew. He had spent too much time and invested too much of himself into this just for it all to be undone because of those two _things_.

He had to keep his cool, though. If he acted rashly then a fatal error might occur that would tear everything apart and there was no way in Hell he was going to let that happen, not on his watch.

The door to his office opened and in stepped his hulk of a second-in-command, Malkov. As usual, the man was expressionless so Xavien was never quite sure when the man would bring him good or bad news. This time, though, it was the latter.

"Mr. Xavien," Malkov spoke respectively. "We are having trouble locating the whereabouts of 12101."

Hearing that number caused Xavien's mind to drop everything and focus solely on this one thing. "What?" he growled, his different colored eyes flashing in displeasure.

"Who?" Katsaris spoke up from his seat, not following.

"He didn't show up to the morning meal," Malkov explained, seemingly unfazed by his employer's ire. "When we check his cell, there was no sign or trace of him. We are still searching the complex but thus far we have not been able to find it."

Xavien found that he was nearing the end of his tether. First 11085 and 12093 go AWOL and now 12101 is MIA. He was losing it, he could feel it. None of those three he could lose, well at least two of them he couldn't afford to lose. These lapses in security and the fact he couldn't seem to hold on to his weapons was beginning to become more than he could handle. He hadn't felt this way since 10001…no! He couldn't think about that embarrassment, not at a time like this!

He was getting overstressed, he knew it. He needed to find his center and start taking everything at a slower pace. None of this could be rushed else a mistake would be made and…

Nevertheless, he still felt like wanting to slaughter something!

He pressed the palms of his hands against his eye sockets, his eyelids covering his eyeballs protectively, as he let out near-snarl of anger and slid his palms downward over his face, leaving the skin it passed over red. He glared up at Malkov, fighting against a tic in his left eye that threatened to expose his irritability.

"I want it found," he growled out, his voice cold and promising death to anyone stupid enough to provoke him. "I don't care if we have to tear the whole desert apart to do so, I want it found and returned as quickly as possible. I will not allow anyone else to get their hands on that little weapon and use it. Kill anybody that comes into contact with it, no exceptions."

"Now wait just one Goddamn minute—" Katsaris stood up to interject only to be cut off.

"This is none of your concern, General," Xavien snapped, glaring at the man. "We'll handle this so go back to being watchdog, alright?"

"I could care less what this 'weapon' means to you but I won't allow you to put the lives of this country's citizens in danger!" Katsaris bellowed, pulling out his sidearm and pointed it threateningly at the businessman, ignoring Malkov as the other man pulled out his own sidearm.

"You're a bit late for that," Xavien retorted sadistically. "There have already been casualties, thank you very much, and your superior doesn't care about any of that other than the amount of destruction that has been caused, which by the way he supports, so don't give me that 'holier than thou' crap."

"Septum might not care but I do," Katsaris growled.

"And what you care about is inconsequential," Xavien spat, falling back into his element. "However, if you are so against how we do things around here, why don't you go and retrieve #12101?"

Katsaris hesitated, biting his lip in indecision as he tried to choose whether or not to do as Xavien had suggested or continue to follow the orders given to him by Septum. In the end, though, he lowered his gun and sat down, glaring balefully at the businessman.

Smirking in triumph, Xavien turned back to Malkov and said, "My previous orders stand."

"Yes Mr. Xavien," Malkov said and left.

Making himself comfortable in his chair, Xavien shot one last smug glance at Katsaris, infinitely ballooned by the latest spar that he began to whistle as he got back to work.

---

Sunlight streamed through the large windows that provided a majestic sight of the city beyond it. All of that was ignored by the current occupant of the office to which those windows belonged to.

The man was not the largest person you could meet but quite small with combed pure white hair that was just beginning to enter the balding process and framed a wrinkle-free and smooth complected face that was as hard and cold as the man's personality. Normally cold, hard, blue eyes were thoughtful as this speck of a man looked as if he was pondering the mysteries of life itself.

In reality, he had just finished up with a call that contained some very…_intriguing_ information.

"Project Maxwell…" Mr. Romafellor, the founder, owner, and C.E.O. of the Romafellor Corporation, one of the three largest firms in the world, said with thoughtfulness.


	7. Ask the Right Questions

Author's Note: Thank you Archsage Soren and Kibin Okami for responding to my request for more OCs. You have no idea how much you have made things simpler for me and all I can offer you as of right now is my gratitude until I actually introduce the OCs you have generously donated to me. For everyone else, enjoy.

Disclaimer: I do not own Gundam Wing.

Warning: language

Ask the Right Questions

Over the past few hours, Trowa had found himself pondering over all the information that had been bestowed upon him, Solo, and Duo, most of which answered so many questions that had been bothering him for years on end. But not all of his questions had been answered.

Why had he been the one out of countless others who survived? What made him so special that he was allowed to live? Why had he been taken and forced into this in the first place? It had been those questions he hadn't thought to ask when Mr. James Maxwell had been revealing his role in all this, questions that now popped up into his head that he desired to ask the elder the first chance he received.

However, his self-appointed duty was to Catherine first and he would not leave her side for long amounts of time since he was partly to blame for her current condition. It was true that he had control over plants and could grow certain ones wherever he wanted, no matter the climate or terrain, even summon ones that contained cures for some of the most deadly diseases that haunted humanity to this day, but how was any of that useful when waiting for someone to recover from concussion-caused injuries where force was the culprit and not some tiny organism? He was becoming more and more worried that the one person that he had opened himself up to love, even if it was platonic, would fall into a coma with each passing day she remained unconscious. He felt as if the powers that had been forced on him were worthless since he could not find any solution that they had the ability to grant him.

Hearing a moan come from Catherine, though, was enough to stop all thought in his mind as he placed all of his attention on the prone, young woman who was shifting in the bed that she had yet to leave since he had first put her there. Seeing her eyelids flutter open and close as even the dim light in the room hurt her eyes was enough to make his heartbeat go offbeat.

"Tr…Trowa?" Catherine rasped as she groaned from the dull throbbing in her head.

"Cathy!" he exclaimed quietly, joy filling his being. "Thank God! You're okay!"

"Tr-Trowa? Catherine managed to stuttered, puzzled by his rare outburst. "Wh-what are you…talking about?"

Smiling gently yet sadly at the young woman, Trowa answered, "We were in an accident and the RV is…well, it's totaled. Do you remember that sandstorm?"

Her eyes widened in remembrance before shutting quickly as she groaned aloud, whether it was from pain or something else, the unibanged, young man knew not. "You're kidding me, aren't you?" she demanded.

"You've been out for almost an entire week, Catherine," he told her, confirming indirectly her fear. "I wish that it were otherwise, but—"

"Enough of that," Catherine interrupted, sighing. "So we're unemployed, we're…where are we?"

"A priest allowed us to board here until we're ready to leave," Trowa answered patiently.

"We're in a church? What do you know, I'm not that religious anyway," Catherine commented before continuing, "anyway, if I'm not wrong, we have three freeloaders with us as well."

"Correct," Trowa said, nodding his head.

"Well that's all fine and dandy," Catherine replied sarcastically. "Now what do we do?" Sighing, her head lifted up suddenly as a thought occurred to her. "Hey, didn't those two boys, Solo and Duo I mean, aren't they special?"

"How do you mean?" Trowa asked, curious as to what she was thinking.

"They have those superpowers, right?" Catherine questioned. "And you do too, don't you?"

"Yes," he confirmed, still not clued in to the female's thoughts.

"Did you ever plan on telling me?"

Trowa blinked as Catherine's words hit him. Oh. Yeah. He had forgotten that he had never told her about any of that so this all must have been a shock to her, a shock that had taken her world and turned it upside down, rearranging everything in the process.

From the way she was staring him down, he knew that there was no way he was going to be able to slip out of this.

---

Trowa wasn't the only one to have been mulling over all the information given to them by James Maxwell. If he had known that many of the same questions the unibanged other was asking himself were the same ones he was thinking about, Solo would have done something else with his time instead.

But, because he didn't, he was pondering those same questions. Why had he been chosen in the first place? How was it he was still alive even though he had gone through Hell and back? What was it that he had that allowed him to survive and others to die? There was just so much on his mind yet he doubted even that guy, James, had all the answers. That Xavien guy, though, he might know. He was the guy behind this all so it stood to reason that he knew the answers to the questions that James Maxwell didn't. Hmm, that was a thought. Maybe he should pay this Xavien guy a visit. There in lied the one problem with that: how the hell was he going to find the son of a bitch? He wasn't military, so he could be anywhere and since he was a businessman, there was little to no chance he was back at that hellhole he and Duo had escaped from. Even if he wanted to go back, he couldn't; he had forgotten how to get back there, especially since he had been running _away_ from it and not to it.

He came out of his thoughts but for a minute as he glanced over at the sight of Duo sticking close to the side of that nun again but unlike previous times, Duo seemed to be in some perpetual state of being out of it. He was staring ahead of himself, just like he himself was, he was sure, lost either in thoughts or memories of what had happened only just last night. Solo sympathized with him; it wasn't everyday you attacked a person close to you with no provocation and without any control over yourself. The nun was making overtures to him only to be disappointed by the silent rebuttals.

Solo knew he wasn't good with other people's emotions; he didn't even know the basics in trying to comfort someone. Growing up on the streets, one learned that their environment was unforgiving and you couldn't sit around long enough to comfort somebody unless you were begging to become another of the countless victims who fell prey to the human predators that prowled about, just waiting for such an opportunity to strike.

It was a dog eat dog world out there, a concept that _some_ people around here couldn't grasp.

"What's on you mind?" asked a certain blonde girl with peculiar eyebrows.

Yeah, people like little Miss Eyebrows, or whatever her name was, who thought that the world owed them shit and—oh, wait, she was sitting right next to him, looking at him for some reason, just staring…as if…

"You say somethin'?" he asked her bluntly.

As if he just burst some bubble that her little mind was in, Dorothy blinked her eyes as a frown began to mar her face. "I can't believe you just ignored me!"

"I can do a lot more than just ignore ya," he said boldly, almost proudly.

"And here I was worried about you!" Dorothy exclaimed, getting up in a huff and marching away.

Watching her stomp away, Solo asked aloud, "What bug crawled up her ass?"

---

The moment Dorothy came upon a branching hallway, she slipped into it, placing her back against the wall. What had she been thinking, trying to try and comfort that boy…that wasn't one of her better ideas, sheesh!

It was only last night that she had begun to learn, starting with the moment she heard a loud crash. Sneaking out of her, she had come upon the sight of Duo threatening Sister Helen's life and in fear she felt her body freeze. However, the situation had been resolved and everyone that had been involved had left to go the church chapel. Peeved that she hadn't been invited by that man who seemed to know what was going on, she spied on their little powwow and had heard some of the most fantastic things in her life. Human experimentation to give people superpowers? A conspiracy perpetrated by one of the largest business corporations in the world? Trowa having powers of his own?

And she had felt sorry for them, for Solo especially. She didn't know why she felt this way and when she had seen him just sitting there, she had experienced the most insane urge to speak with him. Pfft, she should have known just because he learned about something as big as this that he wasn't going to change, at least in a significant manner.

But on top of all that, she had had another dream last night, one in which she was some rich noble who had just bought a new sex slave who was tall, muscular, and had long blond hair…

---

No matter how long he lived, Solo was sure, he would never understand the inner workings of a girl's brain. It was just impossible. He'd rather deal with Vera again than deal with such things and he hated Vera with such a passion…

"Young love, eh?" a familiar voice asked and as he looked up, he noticed it was that James guy again.

"What would you know 'bout it?" he grumbled.

"I wouldn't," James admitted, sighing as he took a seat next to him. "I just noticed you were having some trouble with that young lady."

"She ain't no lady," Solo retorted. "She's just some stalker that won't leave me alone."

"Sorry to hear about that," James said, shaking his head to himself as if telling himself a private joke.

"What do ya have ta be sorry for?" Solo snorted.

"More things than you'll ever know," James muttered to himself.

Smirking, Solo replied, "Speakin' of knowin' things, maybe ya can clear some things up for me."

"As long as it doesn't involve relationships, I think I should be able to help," James jested.

"Maybe some other time," Solo shrugged. "But that wasn't what I want ta ask. What I want ta know is why was I picked by that Xavien guy in da first place?"

"What do you know about fishing?" James asked instead of answering the blond, ticking him off a bit.

"What da hell does fishin' have ta do with anything?" he demanded.

"It's an analogy," James explained patiently, not put off. "When a person goes fishing, they cast their line into the water with some sort of bait on the hook. They don't expect a certain to fish to come and bite it, not like some of the stuff you see on TV or in the movies. When a person fishes, they take any fish they can get. This fits your situation because in this case, you were the fish and Xavien was the fisherman. You just happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time or you got caught on Xavien's hook and couldn't get yourself loose. Does this answer your question?"

"A bit," Solo replied, scratching the back of his head as he recalled a time long ago when he had still been out on the streets and had caught sight of a twenty dollar bill sticking out of some schmuck's coat pocket. Fishing for human guinea pigs? That made a lot of sense, somehow.

"Of course, Xavien made sure that he made his bait appeal to a certain kind of fish," James continued. "He couldn't just take anybody; that would raise too many questions. So he specifically targeted certain folk in certain lifestyles."

"What?" Solo said, confused. He had thought that he had just been unlucky but now this guy was saying the complete opposite. "Can't ya say that in plain English?"

"Xavien was aiming for people who wouldn't be missed," James said in answer. "Because of your lifestyle, because no one would miss you if you went missing, that's why you were captured. He was looking for people like you but not you in particular. Understand?"

"Not really," Solo shrugged, "but can ya tell me why I'm still alive and why others aren't?"

"I cannot," James answered sorrowfully. "I don't fully understand why those who died, died, and why those who lived, lived. I don't know everything there is to know about Solution 1051 and I don't know everything that has resulted because of Project Maxwell."

"Then what do you know?" Solo demanded.

"Probably the answers to questions you _aren't_ asking," James replied.

"English!" Solo exclaimed, frustrated.

Before James could reply, there was a pounding at the church doors. Somebody was wanting to come in and neither of the two knew if the doors were locked or open.

Sighing, Solo got up. "I'll take care of it. Don't you go anywhere."

"Wouldn't think of it," James said, shifting to get more comfortable.

Solo trudged over to the large doors as if he was doing it against his will. In no time, he was in front of said doors and made sure to check if it was locked, which it was, before opening it up. On the other side of the door stood a small kid with short black hair and shit-brown eyes which were looking up at him like a puppy would to its master. His eyes raking over the kid's outfit, which was too big for him, he said, "We don't want any, go away."

"Now, now, Solo, we don't turn everyone away from the house of God," Father Maxwell gently reprimanded as he came up from behind the door. "Let our guest in—"

However, before the priest could finish, a strong gust of wind blew both doors wide open, a surge of sunlight entering the chapel and lighting it up more strongly that the electrical lights on the ceiling. Solo covered his eyes with an arm, protecting them from being irritated by the fast moving air but as soon as it stopped, he glared out through the open doorway.

Standing just beyond the short kid stood four other guys in familiar black outfits that the blond had definitely seen before. It was the one in the center, the Chinese-looking guy with dark eyes who spoke first, proclaiming, "Come out and face me like a man, Solo! Do it before I have this building torn apart, brick by brick."

Solo swore. "Son of a bitch."


	8. Duel for your Life

Author's Note: Here it is at last, the first major fight of Progeny. The action resumes, the fights should be more intense than in Project but I'm not quite holding my breath on that until I get some response from these. Remember, if you're looking for a story that has a lot of gushy romance, go look someplace else or rent a chick flick. Enjoy.

Disclaimer: I do not own Gundam Wing.

Warning: language, violence

Duel for your Life

"What is this?" Father Maxwell asked aloud, staring at the five strangers that had gathered before his church.

"It's something you shouldn't be concerned about," Solo said evenly, his hands clenching into fists. "Get away from here, as fast as ya can. Me an' Duo will handle this."

Observing the blond's rigid form, the priest shook his and replied, "There's no need for there to be violence, child."

"Try tellin' that ta them," Solo retorted, his green-amber eyes focused steadfastly on the other boys. Raising his voice loudly, he shouted, "Duo! Get yer scrawny ass over here! We got company!"

"You don't really have much vocabulary, do you?" the Chinese boy asked.

"Yeah, and you got no sense of sanctity," Solo retorted.

His face creasing in a scowl, the Chinese youth replied, "How dare—"

However, Solo interrupted him. "This is a church, for Christ's sake! Ya want ta be responsible for blowin' this place ta shreds? Why don't ya ask your buddy over there what happened ta da other places we fought at." With a finger extended, he pointed straight towards Jason who didn't look ashamed at the accusation. Wufei, though, did look over at his compatriot, a look of contemplation on his face as he mulled over Solo's words. By then, Duo had arrived, his innocent side at least, but he was glaring at the other boys nonetheless.

"Very well," the Chinese boy said aloud. "We'll move to another location but we will duel, understand?"

"Crystal," Solo growled, his eyes fully amber.

"What?!" the short, fat youth suddenly exclaimed, looking at his Asian leader incredulously. "Who gives a fuck about this place? Why can't—"

"Shut it, tubby, you heard da man," Solo interrupted.

"Can't you use words to solve this?" Father Maxwell suddenly spoke up. "There's no need to fight to resolve your dispute, whatever it is that it may be."

"This doesn't concern you, old man," the Chinese boy replied. "This matter is beyond you."

"Don't you talk ta him like that!" Duo shouted at him. "Father Maxwell is a smart man! He's smarter than you!"

"I won't contest that with you," the Chinese boy said, "but this does not concern him at all. This is just between you two and us five."

"And me," Trowa spoke up, coming up from behind Solo and Duo, his hands clenched into fists as well.

"You also have no place in this," the Chinese boy retorted, scowling at Trowa.

"Don't judge a book by its cover," Trowa replied neutrally.

"If he wants to get killed, let him," Jason spoke up. "We're wasting time here; we just need to bring back those two and if that guy doesn't know how to mind his own damn business then let him learn the hard way."

"There is really no need for any of this," Father Maxwell said. "Why don't we all go inside and discuss this, rationally."

"Sorry, old man, but orders are orders," Jason shrugged.

"Then would you settle for somebody else?"

Stepping from behind the three boys and priest came James Maxwell, the man leaving his sanctuary for the first time in years as he step towards the other five boys.

"And who would you be?" the fat boy sneered.

"I'm guessing all of you are just like Solo, Duo, and Trowa over there," James began, "so allow me to tell you that I am the man who is responsible for everybody being where they are right now. I am the man who is responsible for giving you, all of you, the special powers that you undoubtedly possess as we speak."

"Are you high or something?" Jason retorted.

"Does being strapped down to a cold metal table sound familiar?" James spoke up, his voice uncharacteristically severe. "Do little needles and tubes injecting you with some strange liquid all the while probes stuck on your body shock you with full doses of unfiltered electricity ring any bells?" At his words, the five strange boys stared at him in shock. "Take me instead and leave them," James proposed. "Xavien would be more than happy to get his hands on me."

"Our orders were to retrieve two escapees, not you," the Chinese boy said firmly, getting over his shock quickly. "We have no business with you, so stand aside."

"I made that mistake years ago and look at what's happened," James replied, not backing down. "How many people, other that yourselves, have died on that table? Do you really think Xavien values any of you? At all? The moment he believes you are 'defective,' he will kill you and not give a shit about it. To him, you all are just things, weapons of war to be used and nothing more."

Silence reigned for a minute as the boys pressed their lips together, taking in James' words. Jason, out of all the others, seemed especially effected, his eyes betraying some thought or memory he had. However, the Chinese boy gathered his wits back together.

"I am honor bound to do what I was ordered to do," he stated. "There is no choice in this for me."

As James was about to protest, Solo came up from behind him and placed his hand on his shoulder. "Just let it go," he said. "There ain't nothing that's gonna stop this from happenin'. Ya gave it your best shot. Now it's our turn."

"But…" James protested.

"No buts," Solo said. "Go back inside with Father Maxwell. We'll handle this."

Stepping ahead of the man, Duo and Trowa following after him, he said, "Let's do this thing."

Without a word, the Chinese boy only nodded and looked over at Jason. The troubled look on the other's face vanished and he summoned up the wind around them, engulfing all those who held power around here and taking them all away in a small tornado.

---

They were carried by the strong winds until they deposited onto a large barren plain in the middle of the American Southwest. Slight mountains could be seen off in the distance but other than the clear blue skies, there was nothing much to comment about the choice of battleground.

"I hope this place is up to your accommodations," the Chinese guy commented, not a hair out of place as he looked down on Solo.

"It'll do," Solo replied, cracking his knuckles. "Let's get this over with. It's almost lunch time so put up your dukes, Chinaman."

"The name to you is Chang Wufei," Wufei retorted, taking only a step forward towards the blond and stopping right there. "Since you're so impatient, come at me then."

"With pleasure," Solo said, starting a charge at Wufei with a fist cocked and eager to meet gut.

Eyes widening slightly, traces of red streaking quietly in the dark orbs, Wufei remained standing where he was, allowing Solo to close in and swing his first punch which was promptly dodged with ease. With the blond mere inches from him, he thrusted a hand out, the fingers and thumbs pressed tightly together, palm completely flat. The hand struck Solo on his left shoulder, a coolness consuming that part of the blond and actually feeling good against the heat of the desert in midday. Continuing to move as if unaffected, Solo threw another punch at the Chinese boy, his waist twisting to accomplish such a blow only for that to be dodged as Wufei ducked it, moving to a side. Wufei's other hand shot out, identical to his other hand, striking Solo's right side, sweltering heat pouring into that part of the blond's body. Wufei brought both of his hands back only to thrust them gracefully out again and again, alternating between the feelings of coolness and the heat as he dodged Solo's more wild blows. The feelings of hot and cold began to overwhelm the blond until he found himself tripping over himself and leaving himself open to another attack.

"Pathetic," Wufei spat as he brought a boot up into Solo's face, forcing the invulnerable titan down into the ground. "That wasn't even half of my strength."

Slowly lifting his head up, his face covered with gritty sand, Solo struggled with the sensations of dizziness and distortion, shaking his head harshly to accomplish that. Ok, that may not have been the best decision to charge that guy, especially since he had no idea of what he could do in the first place. Without warning, he felt something spasm in his stomach and the next thing he knew, he was barfing up that morning's breakfast onto the desert dirt. Holy crap, why was he so dizzy? Being heated up and cooled down so randomly was taking a toll on him already and he hadn't even landed a punch yet…

"Disgusting," Wufei sneered, raising another flattened palm. As the hand began to descend, Solo, still on his knees, bunched his leg muscles and shot away, the shot of pure cold missing him as he ran away from the Chinese boy. Surprised, Wufei shouted after him, "Coward! Where do you think you're going?!"

Solo was wondering that same thing. "What da hell am I runnin' for?" he muttered angrily to himself as he changed his course, his path curving back towards Wufei. Smirking, Wufei shot his hands out and brought them back one at a time, shots of cold and blasts of heat racing towards the blond and missing him. Keeping an eye on Wufei, Solo circled around him, Wufei's attacks missing him by inches as each one sent small clumps of earth into the air as they impacted the ground. Moving closer and closer to Wufei, Solo constantly altered his circular course, his running taking on spiral qualities. Figuring this out, Wufei stopped what he was doing and leapt at the blond to engage in more hand-to-hand fighting.

And Solo couldn't have been more happier at that as Wufei was now within arms length and begging to be pulverized. Swinging a fist out, Wufei ducked Solo's blow and sliced a chop into his ribs only for Solo to be unaffected by it. Not willing to let Wufei slip away, Solo bent his extended arm and brought his elbow down onto the head of black hair. Wufei's head shot down to the ground, his body following after, slamming into the unforgiving only to bounce up before falling back down to the ground again.

"How ya like that!" Solo crowed before taking on a more sinister mindset, his hands reaching down to grab onto Wufei and deliver more punishment.

---

Duo knew that the moment Solo and the Chinese guy started talking, a fight was inevitable. Who could blame him if he just tuned it all out? Then again, the Reaper side of him had taken over during their little flight in the whirlwind and had just stood there, bored out of his mind the entire time as if he was unimpressed.

Moving a crimson eye to glance over at Jason, the very guy who had moved them over here. He remembered him from Boulder, that was for sure, and it was a bit surprising to see the guy still around, or more importantly alive. How this guy had lasted as long as he did, the time wielder had no clue but just like that, he decided it was time to deal with Jason once and for all.

Bending over to pick up a small rock, he looked over at the Wind Master boredly and transported the rock through a passage of time so that it was just above Jason's head. Letting it go, he watched as rock and skull connected and Jason look around, searching for the culprit with a pissed off look. Duo tilted his head, motioning for them to leave to have a more "personal" talk just as the braided one noticed Solo charging at Wufei.

The wind picked up around the two and carried them away somewhat, placing both of them down gently and thus the two enemies stood, face to face.

"I noticed you have a bad habit of always popping up," Duo said casually, hands in his borrowed pockets as he eyed Jason with half-lidded eyes. "What gives? Too scared to actually fight?"

"Unlike all the others, I actually study who I am going to fight before engaging in battle," Jason replied smoothly, not in the least put off by Duo's comments. "In my opinion, knowing how your opponent fights is better than just going in blindly, just like how Solo is finding out the hard way over there."

Duo glanced over at his friend just in time to see him eat dirt. Shrugging, he said, "That's just how he is."

"I noticed," Jason drawled. "Why don't we skip the chitchat and get down to it? I haven't gotten my shot at either of you yet and I'm itching to see what you can do."

Smirking, he replied, "As you wish."

Throughout the small talk, Duo had built a wall of frozen time and with only the twitching of an eye, he blasted the wall straight at Jason, getting a direct hit on the other which sent him flying through the air. Caught off guard at first, Jason gathered his wits quickly and stopped himself in midair.

"Foul!" Jason cried.

"Oh really?" Duo snarked back.

"Really," Jason growled as he gathered the wind around him to form two large, transparent hands, the same ones that had torn a Ferris wheel off its hinges and had used it as a projectile. Those very hands now stretched out and extended towards Duo before clapping together. Duo raised up two walls of frozen time up to intercept the hands just as they were coming in. Duo gritted his teeth together as he managed to hold his walls up against the tremendous force that had almost slammed against him on both sides, which would have been a bad thing in the braided one's book.

The hands didn't stay there for long as they pulled back only to go for a different approach. One hand slammed against the ground in front of Duo, sending large amounts of dirt and sand to cloud his vision. Closing his eyelids to protect his eyes, he wasn't aware of the other hand coming down on him from above and like Solo before him, it was his turn to eat dirt as hundreds of pounds of air crushed him against the earth.

Dipping into his well of power, Duo warped the time around him just as he had done with the rock he had dropped on Jason's head earlier and transported himself out of there as he felt all the air in his lungs leave him. Jason, though, wasn't about to let him get away just so quickly. Seeing him warp away, Jason gathered the wind and blasted it out around him like a wave, the wind-wave slamming into Duo, who had reappeared to his right, and nearly crushing him under its force.

As he got back to his feet, he growled, "A little pressure," to himself as he extended tendrils of time to grab and tear out chunks of desert. Unlike previous times where he would whittle them down to become sharp objects, he threw the raw objects themselves at Jason who sent a gale of wind to intercept them and throw them back. Duo held through as an unlimited amount of wind pushed back against him, not allowing his chunks of landscape to move an inch. Growling in frustration at not being able to gain an upper hand, Duo blasted a tendril of time through the ground straight at Jason and causing the ground beneath him to buckle and loose his concentration. Putting all the power he could afford, he shoved the pieces of landscape at the other teen but Jason quickly retaliated as he sent another gust of wind that tore the chunks of earth into pieces, forming a small ball of skin-ripping wind to shield him against any debris that fell towards him.

Letting go of his power, Duo stomped his foot into the dirt childishly, not caring at all how it made him look.

"You're going to have to do better than that," Jason chuckled as he released his wind. "I watched you fight Dustin and Justin back in that little town. I know how you fight so you're just going to have to come up with something better if you want to get out of this, kiddo."

"And you are starting to piss me off!" Duo barked back at Jason.

"Ooh, like that's suppose to scare me!" Jason taunted, holding his hands up and shaking them mockingly.

"It should," Duo growled menacingly. "I'm going to turn each of your body parts into dust one at a time and make you watch as the blood flows into your missing limbs! You fucked with the wrong guy!" His hands assuming the position of fingers and thumbs pressed together, Duo created his invisible time "knives," the concentrated time distorting the space caught within them. Creating his nearly copyright conveyer belt of speeding time, Duo rushed himself at Jason, his eyes consumed with a crimson light.

As Duo began his rush, Jason took a page out of Duo's book and formed windy blades of air around his hands and crossed them in front of himself just in time to catch Duo's first time knife, twisting his body aside and barely missing the other knife as it thrust at him, aimed at his gut. Acting before Duo could pull back, Jason increased the speed of the wind that made up his own knives and began pulling the air around both of them into the blades. The pressure of rushing wind caused long cuts to open over the unclothed parts of Duo's body, the braided one using a barrier of time to force both of them away from one another.

Vanquishing one of his time knives, Duo pressed a finger up against a recently opened cut, pulling the finger away to look at the drop of blood that had stuck to it and watched it slowly trail down the length of said finger. Slowly, his eyes lifted up to stare back at Jason, a dark fury slowly gathering within those crimson irises until the braided one's temper finally exploded.

"Die," he hissed as he warped himself within a few feet in front of Jason, striking out a time knife at him which Jason blocked with a wind blade. Time and wind clashed but that was soon forgotten as Duo snaked out his other time knife and Jason adjusted his other blade parry the incoming blow. Duo then shoved Jason's other wind blade away and slashed at Jason's torso only for Jason to barely block it in time before it could slice through his uniform.

Taking the initiative, Jason pushed Duo away and sliced a wind blade downward which Duo spun out of the way of, swinging a time knife through the air to be stopped by the other wind blade slicing upwards to intercept. Eyeing this from the corner of his eye, Duo shook his head in an odd manner which sent his braid snaking through the air to smack Jason right in the face. Caught off guard, Jason was slightly stunned at such a blow which Duo took advantage of to try and slice Jason's head off. Fortunately for him, Jason had quick reflexes and ducked just in time, Duo's time knife only slicing off the tops of a few hairs as he knelt on the ground.

Duo growled as he slashed his other time knife downwards, Jason crossing his wind blades in front of his face to catch it. As he held it back, Duo smirked wickedly as he extended his other knife and sliced it from a side, applying steady pressure with his other knife to prevent Jason from shoving him back.

Seeing his demise coming, Jason let loose and released an explosion of wind that covered both of them and reached upward towards the sky, forming a twister.

---

Trowa rolled his eyes as he heard Solo say, "It's almost lunch time so put up your dukes, Chinaman." It figured that his blond companion would say something like that but it wasn't as if he minded it. It was refreshing some times to hear such things like chatter; it really lightened up bleak situations like these.

Glancing over at Duo, he noticed that the braided brunet was communicating silently with that wind wielder and he watched the two leave silently, leaving just him and Solo to deal with the other four. Speaking of the other four, Trowa noted that talks between Solo and the now-named Wufei were deteriorating quickly but that wasn't what was worrying the unibanged young man. It was the look of eagerness of the short, fat one as it looked like that one was ready to interfere with the impending fight.

Strolling nonchalantly over, he said, "Hey!" out to the chubby boy, capturing his attention immediately. Nodding his head to a side, he said, "You want to stay here bored or would you like to come with me and have some fun of our own?"

"An' what could your scrawny ass give me?" the fat boy demanded.

"You'd be surprised," Trowa replied enigmatically, his eyes twinkling. He glanced over at the remaining two boys, the short, scrawny one and the large, muscled one. Both of them didn't look like they would be doing anything so Trowa was going to take the risk in leaving those two alone for now. His eyes returned to the fat one just in time to see him give him a suspicious nod.

Nodding back, Trowa abruptly began walking away, the fat boy trailing after him. When Trowa judged that enough space had been put between them and the fight occurring between Solo and Wufei, he turned around to face his much shorter opponent.

"Is this good enough…" he trailed off, looking at the other expectantly.

"What are you lookin' at?" the other sneered, not understanding what the uinbanged youth wanted.

"What do you call yourself?" Trowa asked pleasantly. "I'd prefer it if I could call you by your name instead of calling you 'you' if that's alright. You may call me Trowa…" pausing, he continued, "Trowa Maxwell."

"The name's Mudball," the fat boy stated proudly, puffing his chest out.

Trowa raised an eyebrow. "Mudball, huh? Well then Mudball, let's begin."

"Yeah, let's start the massacre!" Mudball jested rudely, sneering at him.

Trowa only gave out a small smile and then called out to the plantlife around him. Immediately, roots and plants erupted from the earth around him, one being a root with an unusually sharp edge which he grabbed and pulled out. Mudball stared at him in shock for a few long minutes, trying to comprehend this. Then a cruel smile spread across his face and he said, "I guess this won't be borin' aftah all."

Extending his arm out, a large boulder blew out of the ground and into his hand, Mudball not in the least unbalanced by the incredible weight of it. Frowning, Trowa called out to the earth, hoping for a little assistance only to get a sorrowful reply that the earth wouldn't be able to help him out this time around. Mudball held more control over it and the earth had no choice but to respond to him. This fact alone would handicap his own abilities in this fight…

Well that wasn't good.

The plants screamed at him and he rolled out of the way just as Mudball's boulder landed exactly where he had just been standing. As he stepped onto the barren, desert ground, the earth itself became uneven, tripping the unibanged youth and almost sending him on a one-way trip to the ground. However, Trowa caught his balance easy and stayed afoot; he didn't spend all that time as a circus performer and didn't get anything out of it, you know. Then another shrieking scream alerted him to the fact that another boulder was flying at him and he brought his organic sword up, cutting the earthly projectile in half cleanly.

Mudball stared at that in awe for a moment before snarling and raising his arms up, the earth rumbling in response to the gesture. Pillars of rock grew rapidly from the ground, Trowa finding himself on one such pillar and fighting to keep his balance on it. Meanwhile, earth and rock began to cover Mudball's body, the fat youth's body becoming much larger until he had formed into a large ball of rock, one that began spinning in place, picking up speed right before it shot itself straight at Trowa and the multitudes of rock pillars around him.

Bending his legs, the former acrobat leapt off his perch just as the large Mudball-boulder ran into it, taking it down along with a few other of its fellows, the unibanged youth landing with only one foot on another perch. The Mudball-boulder made a U-turn, changing its trajectory so that it was coming back but Trowa didn't plan on it actually reaching him this time around. Calling on his power, a web of roots and vines erupted from the ground and wrapped around the rolling stone, stopping it in its tracks as Trowa leapt again, this time angling himself towards the boulder with his organic sword held up above his head and ready to slice.

Spikes grew out of the boulder, shooting out and ripping apart many of the roots and vines that were holding onto it. Seeing himself unable to stop before he would impale himself on said spikes, Trowa brought his sword down early and used it as a pole vault to prevent himself from becoming human Swiss cheese. Landing firmly on the ground, Trowa spun around in time to see the Mudball-boulder rip itself away from his roots and vines, the spiked boulder charging at him, threatening to make good on the promise of filling him with holes. Focusing, Trowa's eyes turn into a full brown just as an enormous tree burst out of the ground under the rolling rock and taking it up high into the sky.

Running towards the newly grown tree, Trowa jumped and grabbed onto a helpful vine that snaked down from a branch to meet him and shot himself up the tree at an amazing rate of speed. Effortlessly getting through the tree branches, which had helped him by giving him perches to leap higher, Trowa just about reached Mudball when the spiky boulder itself exploded, sending the razor sharp spikes at the plant master. Unfazed, Trowa sliced and cut to pieces any spikes that drew near but soon found out that Mudball was nowhere to be seen from the boulder's remains.

What…?

A scream from his tree alerted him to the fact that something very big and very large was heading straight towards him. He had just felt his foot leave the tree just as an enormous rock smashed into it. He was so close to the rock that it nearly scraped his face but luckily enough he had jumped just in time to avoid it. The tree, though, wasn't as lucky as it was crushed beneath the rock, its final cry nearly deafening to Trowa but something he managed to endure nonetheless.

As soon as he landed, he glared at the large rock but then noticed another rock attached to it and another one to that one. Taking it all in, he found himself standing before what looked like to be a mammoth rock monster that was easily a hundred feet high. Near the top, Trowa noticed that certain features of many different rocks drew close together to form a sneering face that belonged to a certain hillbilly Mudball.

As a steady wind blew against him and this Mudball-rock-creature, Trowa could only think one thing.

Well this can't be good.


	9. Goodbye, So Soon?

Author's Note: I had some trouble naming this chapter some time ago but then a certain benefactor (coughShadowMajincough) suggested something to me and I thought: why not? The title of this chapter is the name of a song from an animated movie that came out years ago. I'll give you a hint, it came out in 1986 (or is it 1987?) but that's all the clues your going to get. SM himself is not allowed to guess so don't even think about it, buster. Enjoy.

Disclaimer: I do not own Gundam Wing.

Warning: language, violence, death

Goodbye, So Soon?

Having blacked out for a few seconds, Wufei recovered his consciousness just as he heard Solo finish saying, "…like that!" He hadn't expected for his opponent to be able to hit so hard but now that he did know, he was going to have to change tactics.

Balling a fist, he focused his powers solely on it, covering it with intense cold, reinforcing it. Using his natural speed, he decked his reinforced hand right into Solo's gut and heard the satisfying "whoosh" of breath leaving the blond's body. Performing the same technique again, this time focusing on a foot, he swung a kick upwards, nailing Solo on the side of his head. Solo only took a step back but it gave Wufei enough room to pull in all the heat around him and blast it straight into Solo, sending the other flying away.

Swiftly, he jumped back up onto his feet and took a martial arts pose; his eyes nearly a pure red color, he watched Solo regain his footing and chose that moment to strike. Wrapping coldness around his whole body, he jettisoned himself forward with a blast of heat, streaking across the snort distance between him and Solo, impacting the other harshly in the next second.

Not at all slowed down by his power, he landed a chop into Solo's right shoulder, uppercutted his stomach to force Solo to bend over, and dropped his elbow into the small of his back, kneeing him in the face before allowing him to drop to the ground. Without letting himself get back to his feet, Solo lunged at the Chinese youth from where he laid, ramming into him like a bull, trying his best to ignore the chill that striking at his very bones. Taking this in stride, Wufei lifted up both of his fists and slammed them into both sides of Solo's head simultaneously.

The sensation that the blond felt was similar to that of brain freeze as the cold from Wufei's hands permeated his very brain. Holding his head still, Wufei head-butted him and blasted him away from him again with another blast of heat. The heat did nothing to help Solo as once his feet touched the ground, he stumbled back and fell onto his ass, lightheaded.

With a hand, he clutched his head as he fought to regain his equilibrium and actually shook his head to try and clear it up. Catching sight of Wufei planning to get in close again, Solo jammed both of his hands into the earth and pulled a huge chunk of the landscape out which he then threw at the other.

Surprised, Wufei blasted a large amount of cold to shatter the large projectile. Going straight through the shattering rock, Solo charged through and landed a punch into Wufei's chest. Reinforced as he was, Wufei didn't even leave the ground but when he tried to punch back, Solo grabbed the offending arm, spun around, and pulled downward, flipping Wufei over his back to slam down into the dirt. Feeling particularly malicious, Solo didn't hesitate for a second as he slammed a foot down into Wufei torso, burying him into the ground but leaping away without attempting something else.

Solo was wising up to how the other fought and he figured that keeping a little distance right now would be beneficial. Instead of blasting his way out as Solo figured he would, Wufei pulled himself out of the earth, scowling at the other as he got back up to his feet.

Wufei didn't bother with idle chatter, not this time around, instead preferring to hold out both of hands, each appearing to hold something, like a handle maybe, even though there was nothing but air in them. In his right hand, the air began to gain a cold, bluish color while in his left it was a hot red. The two colors, at least from Solo's point of view, elongated, forming long, thin objects, both looking like spears or something like that.

Wufei blasted himself at Solo with a wave of heat, slashing the blue spear first which Solo dodged by jumping away. Not slowing down, Wufei continued forward, striking with the red spear and scraping Solo's torso with it. Had Solo been a normal person, his skin would have been burned severely, his bodily fluids bubbling from the injured area. Since this was Solo and he wasn't a normal person, he didn't experience any of the aforementioned, instead feeling a spike of heat cut into his chest. His skin wasn't marred, showing no sign of injury as usual, but his shirt had a lovely cut in it.

Son of a bitch, how many clothes was he going to have to go through?

As Wufei struck at him again with the blue spear, thrusting it at him, he curved his body just so it barely missed him and slammed his elbow down into Wufei's wrist, doing his best to ignore the sharp chill that shot up and down his arm, numbing it almost. Caught off guard by the pain he had inflicted, Wufei let go of his spear of cold and brought his injured hand to his body. Pain throbbed through it and he was having a hard time twitching his fingers. He would have to get it checked out once this fight was over to make sure it wasn't broken.

Glaring at Solo, Wufei slashed at him with his remaining heat spear.

---

The earth shook and rumbled with each and every step Mudball took as he chased after Trowa who was doing his best to fight back with each and every plant he could summon up. Roots and vines shot out from the ground and wrapped around the rock monster's leg but Mudball didn't even notice the effort as he effortlessly pulled his legs out of the makeshift bindings one at a time.

Having been too involved with his latest attempt to slow Mudball down, Trowa was in noticing a large rocky foot appear overhead and drop down to smash him. Around him, plants broke through the ground and pulled him under just as the foot slammed into the ground. Burrowing through the earth, Trowa emerged a distance behind the rocky behemoth who was look doing at the spot where he had been previously, stumped that there wasn't any squished Trowa there.

That had been close, too close in his opinion. He couldn't afford to come that close to death again if he wanted to come out of this in one piece.

Blocking everything out, even the rock monster, Trowa concentrated on his center, clearing his mind as he readied himself for what was to be an endurance trial. Snapping open his brown eyes, which were emitting an intense brown light, he summoned and grew every single kind of plant that he could think of and sent them all at Mudball.

Vines, roots, branches, stems, the works, all of it sprung from the ground and wrapped all over Mudball's enormous body. Not willing to be stopped by this, Mudball resisted the restraints, tearing most of them out of the ground as he did so but only for other plants to replace those in restraining him. Jerking in place, Mudball ripped more out of the ground but Trowa kept on throwing more and more at him until he was practically immobile.

Like before, spikes shot out of the monster's body, ripping through plants and vines and loosening himself up. Growling to himself, Trowa sent more at him, the roots and vines wrapping around the newly formed spikes and rebinding the monster's body again. Mudball continued to resist, growing more and more spikes out of his exterior until his monster form resembled a creature made entirely of spikes, and Trowa continued to wrap more and more plants around him until Mudball's immobility was assured and complete.

From inside the monster's head where Mudball himself resided, the hefty boy realized the futility of resisting, a fact that he didn't take well, and ejected himself out. Without him providing the necessary power and support, the rock behemoth collapsed on itself, taking the plants that wrapped all around it with it. Trowa didn't care about that since the plants had told him about Mudball's escape.

With the help of his plants, he burrowed under the dirt and emerged just inches behind the rotund youth. Leaning forward until his mouth was close to Mudball's ear, he breathed, "Boo."

Mudball, in response, shrieked like a little girl.

The fatty whirled around, swinging a rock clad arm at Trowa but the unibanged youth twisted his sword and chopped the incoming arm off. Stumbling back, Mudball screamed out, not just in pain but in fear. The buckling of the earth alerted Trowa to Mudball's last ditch attempt to attack him and he leapt high up into the air, easily getting out of the way of the rock pillars that erupted from the ground.

Trowa's body twisted and twirled in midair and he angled himself downwards as he began to fall back down, his organic sword pointed straight down at Mudball where it impaled him right in his gut. Trowa stared down dispassionately at the writhing boy, balancing easily on the end of his unique, bladed root. He swung his body around until he set foot back on the ground again where he then pulled his organic weapon out of Mudball, along with a good amount of his intestines. Giving a disgusted look at the sight, ignoring Mudball's bawls of pain, he whirled his sharp-edged root and decapitated the disemboweled boy.

---

In the ensuing chaos, Duo had formed a bubble of frozen time around himself to protect him. Jason had disappeared from sight as soon as the winds had turned fierce so while he didn't know where Jason was, he did know where he, Duo, was.

All around him, the winds swirled, spinning around and around like a twister which Duo had no doubt that that was probably what he was in the middle of. He was most likely in the calm "eye of the storm" so that was most likely the logical explanation of where he was at the moment.

Slowly peeking his head up, he searched for Jason's whereabouts, looking from side to side and even checking behind himself only to find nothing. Steadily, his eyes searched above him where he found directly above him was none other than Jason who was looking down at him with a small smirk, his arms crossed over his chest.

"It took you long enough," he called down at him. "How's about you come up here so we can settle this like men?"

"Men, huh?" Duo grumbled to himself but had to admit the proposal sounded good.

Loosening his hold on the surrounding time, he allowed the wind about him to pick him up but that was all the outside help he would allow as he created tiny tethers of frozen time that would cling onto the sides of the tornado and stabilize him. Reforming his time knives, he shot quickly towards Jason who brought back his wind blades to deflect and retaliate.

Jason easily blocked a knife but instead of waiting for the other one to come at him like usual, he countered first, thrusting a wind blade that Duo had to parry to prevent any damage to his person. Bringing up his feet, Duo kicked both of his feet into Jason's stomach and pushed back, sending Jason higher up as he shot himself towards one of the fiercely windy walls. Flipping so that he was streaking through the air feet first, he created a small surface of frozen time against the tornado's wall which he shoved off of and shot himself straight back at a recovering Jason.

Seeing Duo coming at him, Jason used the wind to stop himself in midair and throw himself back at the incoming Duo who thrusted both of his time knives at him which he deflected at the last second, leaving Duo open to attack. Jason slashed diagonally at the braided one, a strike that Duo blocked by sliding a time knife in-between himself and the approaching blade. Duo shoved back and dodged a thrust, snaking his own thrusting time knife back which Jason leant backwards to avoid, the time knife nearly cutting his cheek.

Jason swung a wind blade clumsily that Duo was easily able to parry and gained a wide opening that he took the opportunity to nearly stab Jason in the chest except Jason sped up the speed of the winds around them to separate both of them, causing the tip of Duo's time knife to almost come into contact with Jason himself. Letting himself ride along the wind, Jason watched Duo loose control and then shot himself at the defenseless boy to deal a finishing blow. However, Jason found himself slamming up against a barrier of frozen time as if he had just run into a glass window and not broken through. His face came dangerously close to his own wind blade but he only lost the skin on the tip of his nose and nothing more. Jason pushed himself off the barrier but then the barrier shoved itself back into his face and pushed him back into the tornado's wall, almost pushing him out of the tornado entirely.

Seeing his chance but not wanting to blow it entirely, Duo extended his awareness out and all over the fabric of time itself, ready to freeze it all so that he could finally deal the final blow to Jason once and for all.

But he couldn't do it.

He had wasted too much energy with fighting Jason face to face; he needed to have most of his energy at his command in order to do something of this magnitude and he had had barely any time to recover any power throughout this entire fight. Damn it, he shouldn't have messed around as long as he had! In fact, just even trying to attempt something he had just tried was tiring and he fell a few feet down before he caught himself again. By then Jason had managed to get control once more and had broken his barrier of time apart.

Dispelling his wind blades, Jason held his hands in front of himself, forming an orb of pure, concentrated, razor-sharp wind. Stabilizing it, Jason held it over his head then threw it down, straight at Duo who wouldn't be able to dodge it.

"Crap!" Duo swore as he held out his hands, working fast to build up a suitable defense in time to prevent Jason's latest attack from hitting him.

---

Solo discovered something very useful: when only able to use only one of either cold or heat, Wufei became easily manageable. In fact, due to the heat he threw at him, Solo began to see the other as a more skilled version of Mobias, may that asshole rot in Hell.

Needless to say, Solo was having an easier time since he was experienced at fighting fire in the midst of a desert, even though there was no fire this time around there might as well have been for all the challenge Wufei was giving him.

"Here! Catch!" he shouted at said China guy as he threw another large chunk of landscape him, laughing in childish delight as Wufei blasted heat into it, ricocheting it away before falling to a knee, panting hard as he glared at the blond, his right hand and wrist pressed protectively against his chest. "C'mon, I know ya can do better than that!" he taunted.

It didn't matter how much he wanted to deny it, Wufei knew Solo spoke the truth. Since his right hand, and from that including the rest of his right arm, was put out of commission, he couldn't summon any chill that helped to deal a dynamic combo that had really had the other reeling at the beginning of the fight. The pain was just enough to disrupt his concentration in removing the surrounding heat that he couldn't produce any cold so pointless to say that he was severely handicapped.

But he wasn't about to throw in the towel just yet; he was still honor bound to fulfill the task given to him by Xavien. He had a debt that needed to be satisfied and he couldn't let this one chance to escape that man's clutches get away from him.

Gritting his teeth and pushing the throb of pain in his right arm out of his mind, he heightened the temperature in his left hand, raising the amount of heat in it to blazing levels but he didn't stop there. The only way he knew how to win this fight was to make sure Solo couldn't move and the one way he could do that was zap all of his energy and what better way could he do that than to use intense heat? The area around him was drenched in the color of red as more and more heat came to him; Solo narrowed his eyes, suspicious of his intentions and rightly so.

Giving out a roar of wrath, he threw the concentration of heat at the blond, willing with all of his being that this would conquer the other. Solo, however, was already acting; he punched a fist into the earth again and pulled out a rather flat piece of rock that he used as a shield as he charged towards him. The airborne ball of heat slammed into the earthen barrier, the intense heat causing the rock to melt but the makeshift shield did its job as Solo discarded it, continuing his charge at Wufei.

Flinging his arms out, Solo rammed himself torso to torso with the Chinese youth, wrapping his strong arms tightly around the other with no hint of tenderness in them. As Wufei desperately tried to gather more heat, Solo growled into his ear, "Body slam."

Pushing with his legs, he hurled both himself and Wufei up into the air where he let gravity take over and bring them back down. He carefully angled it so that when they landed, Wufei would bear the brunt of everything: the ground slamming into his back, the weight of Solo crushing him into said ground, all of it. As the dust settled down and Solo got off of the prone figure, staring down at the crumpled body of Wufei who had fallen into unconsciousness, his mind unable to take the pain that had flooded his body.

Even though he wasn't in his top shape, he nonetheless searched around until he spotted two of the other boys, the large and bulky one and the short and scrawny one. Clumsily, he took raised his fists up and beckoned for the two to attack him. However, neither of the two did anything except for the big one looking down at the smaller one. Dropping his arms, he blew air through his lips irritably. Did he had to spell out what he wanted those two to do or something? Looking down, he spotted a harmless rock which he picked up. Weighing the rock in his head, he nodded to himself as if confirming something then pitched the rock at the two others, his rock striking the big one on the head.

Apparently, pain was something the big one understood because he threw Solo a glare and growled animalistically at him. Twitching his fingers in a "come hither" motion, Solo smiled as the big one roared and rampaged towards him.

"What a moron," Solo said to himself when the other was only feet away. Solo slipped to a side, sticking a foot out and tripping the other, causing him to tumble and roll comically due to the momentum he had gathered. As Solo took his time turning around, he found out how quickly the other could recover as the larger boy grabbed his head with a large hand and slammed him head first into the ground. This other guy was strong, really strong; the blond was really dazed from that and the other guy wasn't through with him just yet.

Solo felt himself being pulled out of the ground by his head and as he was being daggled, surprisingly, he rammed a punch into his opponent's gut as hard as he could, hearing the promising sound of the other loosing all the air in his lungs. Solo landed a right hook into a cheek followed by an uppercut that caused him to be released from that beefy hand. Crouching on the ground, Solo spun a kick and knocked the other off his feet, the large bodied boy toppling face first into the dirt.

Jumping up, Solo let himself fall and delivered a piledriver into the boy's back, pushing himself up only to fall again and do another one. Grabbing hold of the skintight, black suit, Solo hefted the other up above his head and threw the other down head first, the body sinking into the dried soil up to his gut, his legs pointing up into the sky. However, Solo hadn't pulled away when a fist exploded through the ground and right into his stomach, causing him to stumble away as the other boy dug himself out of his current predicament.

Coughing, Solo watched as a scrape on the other's forehead close up, leaving not even pinken skin or a scar behind. Holy shit, this guy could heal himself! Ain't that a bitch?

"Who da fuck are you?" Solo said to himself as the large boy growled at him and charged.


	10. Battle of the Juggernauts

Author's Note: And Archsage Soren gets it right with The Great Mouse Detective. No prize this time my friend but a pat on the back. For the rest of you, enjoy.

Disclaimer: I do not own Gundam Wing.

Warning: language, violence, death?

Battle of the Juggernauts

"Sigmund!" Yuuan cried out as he saw his friend ram into Solo, his large hands and beefy fingers wrapping around the blond's upper arms. Upon lifting Solo off the ground, Solo brought a knee up into his chin, the sound of Sigmund's jaw breaking audible even from where Yuuan was standing. He'd be okay from that since his friend could regenerate at an accelerated rate but it didn't mean that he liked it.

Solo kicked a foot into the giant's gut once, twice, three times until Sigmund finally let go of him in which the blond took the opportunity to slug him in the side of the face. However, Sigmund caught Solo's next punch with his hand and clamped down tightly on it, preventing Solo from retracting it. Pushing Solo back with his strength, Sigmund pulled him back, his large fist impacting Solo's torso, sending him flying away as he simultaneously let go of the captured fist.

Solo landed ungracefully on his back but flipped back up an instant later, pushing off the earth and rushing Sigmund, landing a punch into Sigmund's gut and an uppercut on his chin. Sigmund interrupted this barrage prematurely by wrapping his arms around Solo and picking him off the ground, proceeding to squeeze the blond tightly as he could. Even though his arms were free, Solo's spine popped from the pressure placed on it and he punched at Sigmund's arms, trying to free himself from the tight hold. Crying out, Solo grabbed Sigmund's head and headbutted him once, twice, and Sigmund relinquished his hold as blood streamed from a broken nose. Wrapping his own arms around Sigmund, Solo bent over backwards and did a suplex, bashing Sigmund's head against the ground.

Not able to continue watching, Yuuan turned away from the fight to come face to face with somebody else's chest. Slowly looking up, he was captured in curious brown-changing-back-into-emerald eyes that were eyeing him curiously with a hint of hostility in them. Immediately, he held his hands up in the universal gesture of surrender, knowing full well that he wouldn't be able to fight without getting his ass kicked and handed to him. Unlike Kyle, he hadn't been trained in the martial arts at all. The superiors in charge had had another purpose for him altogether and it in no way involved physical activity.

The newcomer, someone that Yuuan recognized from back at the church, raised an eyebrow in questioning. "Aren't you with them?" the stranger asked.

"Yes…" he answered unsurely, "…and no…"

"Yes and no?" the stranger repeated.

"I can't fight," Yuuan admitted shamefacedly. "I don't know how to…"

"Nobody trained you how to fight with your powers offensively?" the stranger with the unibang asked, surprised.

"No," he whispered quietly in answer. "I was judged to be useful in other occupational faculties and prevented by the superiors from learning how to offensively use my abilities in a combat situation."

The unibanged stranger's eye widened in awe, at least he thought it was awe, at his use of extended vocabulary. Back at headquarters, he was mocked mercilessly by the other boys because he liked using such words all the time. It was just the way he was.

"I guess I'll just have to keep an eye on you then," the stranger replied, shrugging his shoulders.

"Okay," he whispered worriedly.

---

Duo strained as he was slowly pushed back by Jason's latest attack. The ball of wind was unsurprisingly powerful and was being helped by the surrounding tornado's wall that was speeding up and sucking away all his air. It was making it harder to breathe and weakening him inches by inches as he sunk lower and lower in the air.

He put more power behind his barrier and managed to push back a few inches only to loose them as Jason pushed him back easily.

"It's over!" Jason called down at him. "Surrender now and this all stops."

"Fuck you," Duo gritted his teeth as he poured even more power out into his barrier, finally stopping his slow descent. "I ain't going back there; I'd rather die than go back there."

Jason retorted, "Orders are orders. I haveta bring you and Solo back in so that it's not my hide on the line."

"You think he'll let you live?" Duo shot back at him. "You're just a thing to him! Once you've outlived your purpose, he'll kill you anyway."

"Don't you think I already know that?" Jason said. "I saw what he did to Mobias; you think I don't know he won't do the same to me? I'd rather live a bit longer, thank you, and if bringing you in ensures that then so be it!"

"Why don't you run?" Duo shouted back.

"Because there is no escape," Jason told him solemnly. "There's no escape in this life, only the next."

"How about I send you there?" Duo said and blasted his full might into his barrier, pushing not only the shield of frozen time but the ball of ferocious winds back at Jason who was immediately overwhelmed by it. To lighten the blow delivered onto his person, he dispelled his own attack so all he had to feel was the wall of frozen time slam into him like some invisible physical force.

Unable to hold himself where he was, Duo dropped down the tornado's shaft but managed catch himself a few yards above the ground itself. Panting hard, Duo stared up above himself, waiting for Jason to come back at him. He needed time for his well of power to refill some before he could pose a credible force.

He wasn't disappointed as Jason rocketed down at him from above, his hands held in front of his body, holding another orb of razor-sharp wind but unlike last time where he had thrown it as a long distance attack, he was coming in to do close quarters combat.

Duo filled the space before him with slowed down time which bought him some time as Jason's advance was dawdled when he entered the field of time. He gritted his teeth as he form another thick wall of frozen time between himself and the field of slowed time, waiting anxiously as Jason slowly made headway towards him, every bit of distance he passed done in slow motion. Gradually, the Wind Master encountered the wall and when he did, Duo dropped the field of slowed time to focus more of his power into the wall. The return to normal time seemed to make Jason's collision more forceful and once again Duo found himself being pushed backwards inch by inch. These inches, though, were ones he couldn't afford to lose but that was precisely what was happening. He was getting close enough to the ground that he could see that the tornado they were in was not staying in one place but moving about.

He had to put that out of his mind as he put all his concentration in trying to shove Jason back, flashes of pure white light escaping from the point where time wall and ball of wind touched.

---

Solo pulled and pressed with all his might, succeeding in finally breaking his opponent's arm at the elbow, the bones snapping audibly from within the muscular body. A large palm slamming into his torso shoved him away, the large boy he was fighting getting to his feet as he did so. Grabbing his arm by the shoulder, the larger boy ripped the broken and lame arm off and threw it accurately at the stunned blond who was hit back onto his back in the process.

Focusing with a pain-filled mask of concentration, the larger boy sprouted a whole new arm the same size and shape as the previously torn off one, gummy afterbirth covering the newly grown appendage.

Gaping at the sight, Solo said out loud, "Gross!"

Not taking any offense, the larger boy lunged at Solo and succeeded at grabbing the blond by his broad shoulders, lifting him up off the ground and throwing him harshly back against the ground. Raising a foot up, he tried to crush Solo but Solo rolled away at the last second as the foot slammed into the earth. Getting to his feet, Solo pulled a large rock out of the ground and bashed the piece of earth against the other's skull, blood splattering out of the blood wound as the bone beneath nearly caved in. That too was healed up but Solo, refusing to quit, swung the rock and slammed it into the side of the other's face, blood flinging away as the large boy's head snapped to a side from the force of the blow.

With the rock falling into pieces by now, Solo discarded it and tried imitating a high kick into the other's gut. The other boy caught the foot and, holding it tightly, proceeded to throw Solo up in the air again. Acting quickly, Solo caught the other's head in his hands as he was passing it and quickly headbutted it twice, freeing his captured foot. Holding himself in his upside down position, he brought his knees down harshly into two large shoulders and shoved off so that he flipped over and rolled down the broad back of the stunned boy. Landing on his back, Solo kicked both of his feet into the back of the other's knees, calling out "Timber!" as his opponent fell forward onto his front.

Rolling forward, Solo slammed his ass down on the back of his opponent's head, imprisoning it between his _gluteus maximus_ and the rocky earth. Throwing his elbows back, he rammed the two joints into the boy's shoulder blades and did this action two more times before pushing his ass up and slamming back down again.

Panting, he got up off the prone figure and looked down at it, braced for any sudden movement that he was sure was coming.

His mind began to register some loud cries and he looked up to see the scrawny kid from other calling out a name as Trowa held him from behind. Sig…mund? This guy's name was Sigmund? Boy did he feel sorry for him; what kind of person named somebody else Sigmund? Looking back down at Sigmund and seeing no movement, he finally relaxed as it looked like the fight was over and Sigmund was down for the count.

Bending down on his legs, he shot up and leapt over the distance separating him and Trowa and the little guy he was holding, landing right in front of the two. Bending down, he grabbed hold of the smaller boy's chin and asked, "Is there anything else ya gonna throw at us? Well?"

The boy shook his head side to side, his eyes wide with fear. For a moment, Solo saw an image of a wide-eyed Duo that was replaced by another image, one of a boy with short, scraggy blond hair held up in a ratty bandana and wide, innocent green eyes, an image he had only seen once when he had looked at a window once. Shaking that away, he returned back to the present where a small boy with black hair and brown eyes was giving him a desperate looking, as if begging him not to beat him up.

It was just too pitiful to look at that any plans Solo might've had were discarded. The blond could count on Trowa to handle this kid if he tried anything funny. Looking up at Trowa, he saw that the guy's visible eye was starting to widen, giving the blond an ominous feeling in his gut. Clenching a fist, he spun around and socked the now-standing Sigmund on the right side of his face, Sigmund's neck twisted to the point where his head was almost on backwards. That seemed to be the final blow that was needed to exhaust Sigmund and cause him to fall and not get up.

"Sigmund!" Trowa's captive cried out, struggling against Trowa's hold and failing to escape it. "How could you!" the boy wailed.

"He was askin' for it," Solo shrugged, ignoring the boy's hysterics. "You saw 'um sneakin' up on me."

"But you didn't have to…have to do that!" the boy exclaimed, referring to the unconscious body. "You could have almost killed him!"

Raising an eyebrow, Solo said, "Almost?"

"He's taken worse than that," he was told by the boy.

"Then why are ya so worried if ya know he's gonna be all right?" Solo asked, puzzled.

"I don't like seeing him get hurt…" the boy said, his voice trailing off quietly.

As the wind blew against them, Solo said bluntly, "You make no sense, ya know that?"

Trowa winced, whether it was from his words or something, the blond didn't know. "Maybe you could be more tactful about this?" Trowa suggested. "He seems to be very good friends with this 'Sigmund' and it's most likely mutual. Seeing you beat his friend up must have been the hardest thing he had to see right now. You decking him couldn't have been helpful."

Solo shrugged even as the wind whipped around them. When his hair got into his face, he pushed it away irritably. "Hey, if he can't handle it, then why da hell is he still here?"

"Would you leave if it was Duo getting the crap beat out of him?" Trowa countered.

"'Course not," Solo said. "If he was gettin' the crap beat outta him, I'd jump in there and rescue his monkey ass. I wouldn't stand around and do nothin', ya know?" As the wind blew harder, the blond suddenly snapped, "What da hell is with this wind all of a sudden?"

He probably shouldn't have said that because as soon as he had finished, a torn piece of the landscape collided into him, burying him into the ground. Snapping to a side, Trowa and Yuuan saw an enormous tornado heading straight for them and if they squinted their eyes enough, they could see two figures near the bottom of it, one being Duo and the other Jason. Duo's back was practically scrapping itself against the ground and Jason was throwing all his might into pushing him back with some sort of attack, a white light sparking from between the two.

"We have to find cover!" Trowa yelled out over the fierce winds. Being as they were too close to the funnel cloud, Trowa summoned several plants to try and burrow himself and Yuuan into the ground but as the plants sprouted from the earth, they were ripped out, roots and all, and swept up into the powerful winds.

"Do that again!" Yuuan shouted at him as he dug his finger into the ground, drawing lines into the dirt that weren't being disturbed by the storm that was descending on them. "Try to make it a tree if you can!"

Curious and nearly scared senseless at their predicament, Trowa obeyed the request, the beginnings of a tree sapling emerging from the ground, right in the middle of Yuuan's drawn design. Yuuan seemed to be chanting something to himself, as if focusing his mind before slamming his hands on a line, light erupting all over the drawn lines and being absorbed into the growing tree.

Just as the tree was being consumed by the light, it was ripped out of the ground and sucked in to the storm, Yuuan crying out in surprise as this happened. Still consumed by the strange light, the glowing tree was pulled towards the bottom of the tornado where Duo and Jason were, the glowing object impacting exactly as another spark of white light flashed.

And then everything descended into chaos.


	11. Where did you go?

Author's Note: Recently I just listened (i.e. I actually paid attention to the words) of a song by the band Staind called "So Far Away" that for some reason reminded my both of my TMP fics. It just clicked for reason, it's truly bizarre. Anyway, enough with my rambling for the day, enjoy.

Disclaimer: I do not own Gundam Wing.

Warning: language

Where did you go?

It took some effort but after some pushing, Solo finally managed to shove himself out of his earthly tomb, coughing out the dirt that had gotten into his lungs as he took in a breath of fresh air. Had anybody gotten the numbers off the truck that had hit him? God, if he had whiplash then he was gonna sue!

Taking in a look of surroundings, it took his mind a few seconds to come to terms with the sight of large rocks sticking out of the ground, upturned soil, and an occasional gentle breeze blowing across the barren surroundings. This didn't look anything like what it had been when the fighting had first broken out. What the hell happened? Did someone set off a nuke or something?

Where were the others? As he looked around he caught sight of a half-buried Sigmund, a large rock sticking right out of his chest. Eww…that had to hurt. It'd be a miracle if he was still alive.

The sound of something breaking through the dirt caught his attention and he saw, much to his astonishment, Trowa climbing out of a shallow hole, dragging that small guy he had been holding on to earlier. It was nice to some a familiar face still alive around here but he couldn't help but think that something was missing…

Wait, where the hell was Duo? Frantically, he scanned his surroundings, looking for his missing friend but when he didn't locate anything that might hint at where he might be, he got up to his feet panicky. Taking advantage of his height, he stood on his tippy-toes, trying to see as far out as he could but found absolutely nothing. He tried to remember where he had last seen Duo but his last thoughts were of shouting about the weather. He didn't quite remember what led up to that but everything had went black before he found out what was going on.

Spinning on his heels, he marched over to Trowa and picked him off the ground. "Have you seen Duo?" he demanded, his concern palpable in his voice.

"He's not with you?" Trowa asked and immediately wished he hadn't. The panic that was welling up in those scared green eyes was enough of an answer for him. "I haven't seen him since…since…"

"When?" he barked, resisting the urge to shake Trowa like a rag doll. "Since when?!"

"He was in the tornado," Trowa recalled, his voice light.

"What tornado?!" Solo nearly shouted.

"He was fighting with that boy with the wind powers," Trowa explained hurriedly. "They were fighting inside the tornado, Duo was close to the ground, the wind user above him trying to do something and there was some kind of light flashing between them. I tried to take cover with Yuuan but all my plants were being destroyed—"

"Get ta da point already!" Solo growled menacingly.

"I am," Trowa retorted at him, beginning to lose his patience with the blond. Rushing an answer out of him would get them nowhere and, besides, it was just plain rude. "Yuuan asked me to grow a tree and when I tried, he did something to it, made it glow but then the tree was sucked into the tornado and it hit Duo and the other guy. Everything went crazy then. The winds were going out of control and those two looked like they were torn apart by something. At least I though they were. I broke the earth under myself and Yuuan and tunneled in there but as I did that, I thought I saw Duo, or maybe it was that other one, shooting away, like he was being thrown away by the winds. He might be alive but—"

"Son of a bitch!" Solo shouted as he dropped Trowa onto his ass, cutting off his explanation. "He could be dead for all we know and if he isn't, we don't know where da hell he is!"

"We'll find him, Solo," Trowa said to him. "Just calm down, alright? We won't find him if we don't think straight about this."

"WHY DA HELL WOULD I WANT TA THINK STRAIGHT!" Solo bellowed.

"Calm down Solo," Trowa ordered.

"Duo's like da little brother I never had," Solo snarled back. "He's da only person I care 'bout other than myself an' you're tellin' me ta calm down?!"

Sighing, knowing there was no dealing with Solo when he was like this, grew a flower behind his back, one with a special purpose. As Solo was nearing a rampaging state, he took the flower into a hand and plucked it off its stem. Shoving it into Solo's face, he squeezed it and watched as a cloud of gas shot out from the flower, the blond taking in a large dosage of it into his lungs.

"What da hell—?" Solo demanded before he collapsed into a heap, unconscious.

Natural sleeping gas; you gotta love it.

Looking over at Yuuan who had been a frightened spectator through all this, he said, "Help me lug him back to the church," he ordered.

"But what about Sigmund?" Yuuan asked, looking over at his friend.

Taking a look at Sigmund and the rock that was sticking out of him, he replied, "Sorry but I don't think he'll be getting up anytime soon after that. No more stalling right now; lets get to it."

As the two carried Solo's dead weight away, not an easy task mind you, neither of them saw or heard Sigmund's unconscious body cough blood out of his mouth.

---

Suffice to say when Solo did regain consciousness, again, back at the church, he was not a happy camper, nope, not at all. However, instead of tearing everything around him apart, he just sat down and stewed in his anger, glaring balefully at Trowa whenever the unibanged youth got too close.

Slightly dismayed at this, Trowa chose not to try and antagonize the blond any further, if just sneezing in the nearby vicinity was antagonizing. He'd get over it, Trowa was sure; it was just a matter of time.

Currently, Solo had holed up in the small room that he had been staying in with Duo over the past few days, sitting on his thin mattress, legs bent with his arms wrapped around them. He looked more like he was sulking than pouting but Solo didn't give a shit how he looked to others.

A full day had passed before one of his recent traveling companions dared to enter his room and of all the people it could be it was none other than Dorothy, the girl with the eyebrows and the nice rack. He let his eyes linger on said breasts but nonetheless looked away, not even caring when the girl sat down beside him.

"Had enough?" Dorothy asked, surprising the blond with her choice of words.

"What ya mean by that?" he grumbled, eyeing her.

"You've done nothing but sulk and act like a child in here," Dorothy stated. "Are you done doing that or do you need more time?"

"Ain't ya happy?" he snarked bitterly. "I'm just as miserable as you. I'm alone, my best friend's gone, is there anything else I'm missin'?"

"Don't forget destroying my home and forcing me to do your bidding," Dorothy replied dryly.

"Well, I ain't never had a home so I can't miss it," Solo retorted, "and somebody else already force me ta do their biddin' so your shit out of luck there."

"That's not what I came in here to talk about with you," Dorothy sighed exasperatedly.

"Then why'd ya come in here?" he demanded. "Ta see me sufferin'? Well take a good look, you ain't gonna see more of it anytime soon."

"You think you're the only one who's suffering?" Dorothy hissed.

"'Course not!" Solo said. "You ever been separated from your best friend and not know where they are if they're still alive?"

"Yes!" Dorothy exclaimed.

Blinking at that, it dawned on Solo what that last word meant. "Oh yeah, that China guy's girl."

"He's not Chinese, he's Japanese," Dorothy corrected.

"Same difference," Solo shrugged.

"No it's not," Dorothy argued. "China and Japan are two different countries with two different cultures—"

"And that matters how 'gain?" Solo interrupted. "Anyway, shouldn't you be happy that I'm feelin' da same stuff you are?"

"Of course not," Dorothy stated. "Nobody should feel like that."

"Not even me?" Solo asked skeptically.

Dorothy paused for a moment, actually considering before shaking her head. "Not even…you…" It was a bit forced, Solo could tell, but he had to give her props for that at least.

"Well that's a load off my mind," Solo replied sarcastically, "but it don't do anything to bring Duo back, does it?"

"Then what are you doing in here doing nothing about it?" Dorothy countered.

Though he didn't want to admit it…she had a point there. "And where do I start then?" he half asked, half demanded, still feeling argumentative. "I don't even know where da hell he is!"

"I don't know but what I do know is that you won't find out sitting in here, feeling sorry about yourself!" Dorothy answered heatedly.

Damn it…why'd she have to use logic on him anyway? He couldn't argue with that…or could he? Hmm… "So how do you plan I start?" he asked with an edge in his voice.

"Well, you could start by getting out of this room," Dorothy suggested sardonically. "Why not talk with Trowa, or maybe even Yuuan? They might be able to help."

"Who da hell is Yuuan?" he asked, confused. He was sure he didn't know anybody by that name…

"He helped Trowa carry you into the church," Dorothy answered, rolling her eyes. "What does it matter anyways?"

"I don't know him," Solo told her, honestly. "He could be anybody for all I know, maybe an assassin."

"I doubt Yuuan could be an assassin," Dorothy said dryly. "He doesn't even look like he could hurt a fly. I bet _I_ could beat him up."

"Maybe that's what he wants ya ta think," Solo said, sounding a bit paranoid.

"If he was doing something like that, don't you think he would have tried something while you were out cold?" Dorothy stated, getting tired of this trail of conversation.

"I still don't trust 'um," Solo said, crossing his arms childishly.

"Whatever," Dorothy said, throwing her arms up in the air, as if giving up. "So are you going to get out there or not?"

"Didn't say I wasn't," Solo muttered as he did just that.

---

"What da FUCK is HE doin' here?!"

"Now Solo," Father Maxwell spoke in a soothing tone.

"Don't ya 'now Solo' me!" Solo interrupted as his hackles rose, his intense glare focusing straight on a bound Wufei who was glaring back with equal malice. "Why da hell are ya keepin' this asshole alive?!"

"It is not our place to refuse people from our doors, no matter who they may be," Father Maxwell replied. "I don't think he'd be getting into any trouble anyway; as you can see, your friend, Trowa, had him restrained like this when he was brought in unconscious. The only reason why I am tolerating this treatment is because of the danger he may pose to the children, especially after the account of what happened earlier during your fight."

"Just give me a minute," Solo growled. "I'll snap his neck an' then we won't have ta worry 'bout him anymore."

"I'm afraid I can't let you do that," Father Maxwell interrupted, his tone grave and disapproving. "This is a house of God and no blood shall be spilled in it."

"Fine, I'll take him outside and do it."

"I won't allow you to do that either."

"So you want to let him live?" Solo demanded. "He can kill us all and not care 'bout your rules and you're just gonna keep him alive?"

"That's right Solo," Father Maxwell confirmed.

"You're crazy," Solo gave up, throwing his hands up. "If he kills ya, don't come runnin' ta me."

"As if I would kill a priest," Wufei snorted, finally entering the conversation. "That would be dishonorable and I will not dishonor myself like that."

"Ooh, that's so comfortin'," Solo replied sarcastically. "How do I know you ain't lyin'?"

"You'll just have to take my word for it," Wufei said, turning his head away in a snobbish manner.

"Look ya Japanese asshole," Solo growled.

Interrupted, an offended Wufei said, "I'm Chinese, not Japanese!"

"Same difference," Solo replied, "I'm da guy that beat ya, remember?"

"I remember," Wufei grumbled.

"That's right, now you're gonna do what I tell ya, got it?" Solo continued, smirking.

"I don't think that's how it works," Trowa cut in. "Just because you beat him doesn't mean he has to do you any favors."

"Thanks a lot, asshole," Solo retorted. "I coulda blackmailed him with that."

"Somehow I doubt that," Trowa replied, a small smile on his face.

"We'll see 'bout that," Solo muttered, turning his attention back to Wufei. "Okay pal, where's Duo?"

"What makes you think I know?" Wufei snorted contemptuously. "If he isn't dead from what I've been hearing, he could be anywhere for all I know. My powers don't allow me to locate others. Jason's did, though, but he's not here, is he?"

"Likely story," Solo replied, "but cut the bullshit and tell me da truth."

"As if I would lie," Wufei snarled, straining against his restraints.

"There's only two people I trust in da world and you ain't one of them," Solo spat. "So get with da program already and tell me what I want ta know!"

"I. Don't. Know," Wufei growled angrily, enunciating each and every word. "What reason would I have to not tell the truth? I'm sure that, if given the choice, you would kill me and not think twice. If telling you where your friend is would preserve my life, I'd tell you where he was in a heartbeat but I don't and that's all there is to it!"

"Well, if ya can't help there, then maybe ya can show me da place where the assholes who sent you are," Solo said, changing the aim of his questioning, a bit miffed at Wufei's angry answer.

"I don't know the answer to that either," Wufei answered. "I was prevented at all times from knowing exactly where that base was by Xavien and his underlings."

"There's that name again," Solo muttered. "Okay, what can ya tell me 'bout this Xavien guy anyway? That's the second time I've heard that name."

"Obviously he's the man in charge of all of this," Wufei explained, irritated with the blond.

"Is that it?" Solo deadpanned.

"Other than giving me my orders, I know very little," Wufei said, put out.

"What can you tell us?" Trowa asked. "It doesn't have to mean anything to you but it might mean something to us."

"Other than Xavien wanting both you and your braided friend back, I have no clue," Wufei admitted, slightly guilty.

"I guess it's no use asking why he wants us back other than to use us as guinea pigs again," Solo said sardonically.

"For once, I agree with you," Wufei said, smirking at the flash of offense in Solo's green eyes.

"What's that suppose ta mean?" the blond demanded, his anger beginning to take over his body with the intent of causing the only Chinese person in the room personal injury.

"Knock it off Solo," Trowa intervened, putting his forehead in the palm of one of his hands. "Wouldn't it be better if you put all your excess energy in searching for Duo than causing Wufei as much pain as possible?"

"I don't know, that second thing ya said sounded pretty good," Solo shrugged.

"Perhaps a break in this 'interrogation' would be beneficial," Father Maxwell suddenly spoke, surprising the three youths who had forgotten that he was still in the same room as them, making sure that nothing escalated to the point of violence. "We are all worried about the whereabouts of our friend Duo—"

"I'm not," Wufei snorted but was talked over by the priest.

"—but getting into pointless arguments isn't going to do anything to bring us any closer to his location," Father Maxwell continued. "We should all take a break and let ourselves cool down before even more time is wasted."

"Then why take a break at all?" Solo demanded. "Wouldn't that be wastin' time?"

"It may be," Father Maxwell acknowledged, "it may just be a huge waste of time to take a break right now but is what you're already doing helping any or is it just 'wasting time?'"

"He's right," Trowa spoke. "Let's take a little time to cool our heads and then get back into this."

"What's ta say this Japanese asshole won't try ta escape?" Solo inquired, not at all pleased by being ganged up on.

"I'm Chinese," Wufei snarled.

"Same difference," Solo waved it away.

"Then I guess someone will have to keep an eye on him," Trowa shrugged. Seeing the eager glint in the blond's eye, he hastily added, "I'll watch him. You just go and cool off, okay?"

Grumbling at the unibanged young man, Solo spun on his heel and marched off. Giving Trowa a small smile of thanks, Father Maxwell followed after the blond to make sure he didn't do anything he might regret.

Looking back at Wufei, Trowa commented, "I guess it's just you and me now, eh?"

---

"Stupid one-eyed son of a bitch!" Solo growled under his breathed as he shoved his way out of the church's main entrance. "I hope he goes blind in his only eye! Self-righteous bastard!"

He ignored the sight of a timid Yuuan who was currently dress in an acolyte's uniform, a new convert to the Catholic's God, much to Solo's ire. James stood nearby, looking miserably at the newly arrived boy but kept an eye on Solo as he left the chapel to go outside, sending a quick nod over to his brother that he would look after the steaming blond.

It wasn't an enviable chore, to say the least, but it was better than stewing in his own misery as he saw yet another victim of his life's work.

Speaking of stewing, Solo was doing just that as he clenched his fists tightly and glared out towards the empty horizon. "I take it things didn't go your way," he said aloud as he took his place next to the tall blond.

"Oh, so you're da expert, huh?" Solo groused, not looking at the older man.

"It's just a guess," James shrugged.

"Yeah, well ya can just guess your ass off for all I care," Solo snapped.

Chuckling as Solo just proved his guess correct, he said nothing back. He thought it would be best to just remain a silent figure as Solo internally ranted and raved. It was obvious that the blond didn't want to talk about his frustrations and James knew what it was that was at the core of it all. Duo's absence was weighing on him and, whether or not he would admit it, Solo was worried. It was just another point that James reveled in; Xavien had been completely wrong about the boys not having any emotions. Solo was just a whirlwind of them; it didn't matter what Xavien used to support his argument.

Something vibrated in his pocket and he frowned. Quickly slipping his hand into said pocket, his frown deepened and he made no move to keep his leaving inconspicuous as he hurried back into the church, heading straight to his private room.

He could only hope that what he thought was about to happen wouldn't.


	12. Is It Paranoia?

Author's Note: Believe it or not, I still have a bit of an urge to do some more destruction. Since I've been giving the guys some challenges, I thought that maybe they should get a break and face something easier, like a heavily armed force of XAI's private army. Senseless death and destruction, here we come again! Enjoy.

Disclaimer: I do not own Gundam Wing.

Warning: language, violence, death

Is It Paranoia?

Teams of "cleaners" combed over the battlefield with the purpose of recovering whatever they could. In a wasteland that had become even more wasted after many fights of a large magnitude, finding anything was a near miracle but find things they did.

Malkov watched dispassionately as the twitching and bleeding body of #14376, a.k.a. Sigmund, was loaded into a van, said vehicle setting off to return to base with the injured weapon. 14376, though, wasn't the top priority but 12101 was. Xavien wanted him found at all costs and it didn't matter who it was that got in the way. Not only that, but searching for 11085 was a secondary priority that had a lot emphasis in being completed.

He recorded everything mentally that he would later put into a report that his employer would read and make heads or tails out of it. He took in the sight of torn of earth but frowned slightly at the unusual presence of plantlife that shouldn't even be here. Maybe Mr. Xavien could figure out what it meant since he couldn't.

With that taken care of, he walked back to the caravan to get any new orders that might come from the base. Just as he reached his van, he was approached by two eager boys with teal and purple colored spectacles on their faces, their names being Alex and Mueller if the man recalled correctly. They were freshmen in the XAI organization, just two individuals who were apart of Xavien's private army that was used to keep Project Maxwell's products under control. That being said, the two _normal_ young men were looking like two excited puppies and with as much energy as said animals.

"Sir!" the one named Alex cried out over-enthusiastically, making Malkov nearly wince from the sheer volume. "We just received coordinates from the implant locater in 12101 and it's not far from here."

Malkov nodded as the appropriate measures that needed to be taken ran through his mind.

"Um, sir?" the one named Mueller spoke up, his voice much lower than his partner's. "Alex and I were wondering if we could be in charge of the retrieval unit that would be sent out, sir…"

Malkov just stared the two down with a dispassionate gaze but he considered their words. He'd have to speak with Xavien first about the suggestion before proceeding with anything. This was a delicate matter and it needed to be handled delicately, unless Xavien himself said otherwise.

"Excuse me for a moment," he told the two young men as he climbed into his truck, closing the door behind him as he got onto the radio and contacted base. A few minutes later, he got out, facing the two youngsters as he gave them their orders. "Authorization has been confirmed," he told the two. "You are to head in a southwest direction towards the coordinates and if the weapon has come into contact with anyone, you are to eliminate all contacts. No exceptions. You are in charge of this operation while I accompany the other contained weapon back to base. Take what you need with you because there will be no reinforcements, understand?"

"Yes sir!" both young men saluted, malicious gleams in their eyes. It seemed that Alex and Mueller had been ready beforehand. The one named Mueller waved his hand and a large armored vehicle that looked like a tank except it sat upon four rubber tires, like a van would, rolled by. Quite a few of these vehicles were heading towards the coordinates along with some accompanying vans and Alex and Mueller themselves.

Since this was no matter of his anymore, Malkov turned his attention elsewhere.

---

As the XAI vehicles plowed through the terrain, one of the armored, four-wheeled tanks ran over an insignificant rock that began to flash an unnoticeable red light, sending a small signal ahead of the enemy caravan.

---

Unlike the rest of the church and orphanage, James' room was a room apart as it held some of the most sophisticated pieces of technology, some of which had been smuggled from certain business corporations and governments through black market contacts that the man himself still kept healthy. While the furniture in the surprisingly large room was shabby and cheap, it was sturdy to hold all the electrical equipment in James' possession.

Said man burst into his own room after hastily unlocking, heading straight towards an open laptop where a pop-up window shown, the window confirming the man's fear. Sitting down in front of it, James' fingers flew over the keys in a dance only they knew as more pop-ups appeared on his screen. His frown deepening, he let out an exhausted sounding sigh just as a certain blond hesitantly step into the room, followed by a certain priest and his new acolyte.

"What is it James?" Father Maxwell asked, not in the least shocked by all the equipment in the room.

"They're coming," James sighed, catching the attentions of Solo and Yuuan. "They tripped one of my security devices, you know, the ones that made you think I was paranoid? They're northeast of us and closing in. It'll be less than ten minutes at the rate their going, and speeding up, before they arrive."

"What'll they do?" Solo asked.

"Probably destroy the church," James answered almost airily. "Take the kids and bring them back to Xavien's facility where they'll just become more of his experiments. Still, how do they know to come here…?"

His eyes snapping up, James got out of his chair and headed over to a table where he pick out a small device. Turning on, small beeps were emitted from it, each beep timed a certain amount from one another. As he moved, heading to the door, the beeping began to increase until it was practically one loud sound.

Looking to his side in surprise, James found himself next to Yuuan who was staring at him somewhat fearfully as he eyed the beeping device. "A homing device," James breathed.

Solo suddenly stiffened. "Ya don't think they could've…?"

"Not in you," James answered the incomplete question. "But they did in him. There's not enough time to get the children out of here and out of harm's way. Christ…"

Eyes narrowing, Solo demanded, "Ya think ya can get rid of that thing?"

"Perhaps," James answered.

"Then me and Trowa will hold them off," Solo stated, heading to the door. "Do whatever it is you gotta do."

"Make sure you don't let any of them know about the church!" James cried out as the last of Solo's hair wisped around the doorway.

"We'll handle it," Solo called back and everyone could feel the smirk on Solo's face from that statement alone.

---

Solo nearly tore the door off its hinges as he came for Trowa, the said youth looking at him in surprise.

"We got incoming," Solo told him. "A bunch of guys from XAI are headin' this way. Think ya can help me do somethin' 'bout it?" The blond had continued to talk even as Wufei exclaimed "XAI!" from where he sat.

Nodding his head, Trowa replied, "Can't let them get past the welcoming committee, can we?"

As the two started to head out, they were halted by Wufei. "Take me with you!" he called out.

"Why should we do that?" Solo asked skeptically.

"Let me prove myself to you," Wufei scrambled to say. "You don't trust what I say so let me prove myself to you."

"We don't have time for this," Solo muttered to himself. "Look," he said out loud. "Can ya stay here an' make sure the kids here aren't hurt if anybody gets past us?"

Wufei nodded solemnly.

"Me an' my bleedin' heart," Solo muttered to himself as he grabbed Wufei's bindings and rip them off.

---

"That was really mature of you," Trowa commented a few minutes later when both he and Solo were a distance away from the church and orphanage and increasing the distance. When setting out, they needed to move quickly and since Solo could do that, he had to carry Trowa on his back which had irked him. Trowa would have offered to burrow them but they needed to see their enemies heading towards them and not away from them. Plus it took time and energy doing that and Solo seemed not to be the type to tire easily.

Hell, the blond had taken on Wufei and Sigmund back to back without taking any time for rest.

The journey itself, though, was bumpy, very bumpy. And this was the way Duo had traveled when both he and Solo had first escaped? Trowa couldn't imagine anybody falling asleep during that, not even closing their eyes for a second.

So when Solo finally came to a stop, Trowa quickly got off his broad back, thankful for feeling solid ground against his feet despite his legs wobbling for a few seconds. Solo was enjoying his misery; he could feel it in his gut. Still, if you were on the go go go, traveling by Solo was the way to go.

"So what's da word?" Solo called to him cheerfully.

Shooting the blond a look of annoyance, he tuned him out as he listened to the plants, taking in their constant buzz, and confirming them with what little info the earth would give him. Coming back to himself, he answered, "They'll be here in less than a minute."

"Good," Solo replied as he cracked his knuckles. "I could use some exercise."

"Bloodthirsty as always, I see," Trowa said, his eyes picking up the clouds of dust rising over the horizon, pinpointing the enemy caravan's location.

"Wanna wait or see what happens if they hit something?" Solo asked.

Without answering, Trowa summoned his plants and directed them a ways ahead of them. While too late to intercept the vehicle at the head, the plants attacked one of the armored tanks that tore throw the pathetic attempt with ease. Frowning, Trowa tried again, this time catching a van that ended up losing traction and served wildly before being rammed and crushed by a tank behind it.

"Cold blooded," Solo whistled. "My turn." Ramming his hand into the earth, he pulled a large chunk of the landscape up and threw the large projectile. As it flew in the air towards the vehicles, one of the tanks raised its turret and fired a shot at the rock, blowing it into pieces that were run over by both tanks and vans.

"Huh," Trowa commented as he summoned his root-sword, making sure that it was twice as sharp than times previous.

"Looks like we gotta take 'um face ta face," Solo said. "Fine with me."

The eager blond launched himself at the caravan that began to fire shots from multiple turrets simultaneously. Unfazed as explosions occurred on either side of him, Solo ignored the shots as he took on the first tank headfirst, tearing through the vehicle and coming out the back, the tank detonating behind him in a cloud of flames.

Whistling at the sight, Trowa stood his ground, waiting for any vehicles that got past Solo. Indeed, as some tanks remained to fight the blond off, others continued on their path, Trowa standing directly in their path. One of the tanks fired a shot at him, the unibanged young man sighing. Listening to the plant's screams, he held his bladed root up like a baseball bat and, at the right second, swung it, connecting with the explosion shell and sending it back at its point of origin where it traveled back up the tank turret, the armored vehicle exploding soon after.

For his next act, he summoned a bramble of sharp-tipped roots which were impaled into the front of a moving van, stopping it in its tracks, blood splattering on the cracked windshield. Taking the time to use a new technique, one inspired by the late Mudball, a pillar rock held visibly together by vines and roots erupted from the ground right under another moving tank, sending it flipping to a side to land on the only other van to have gotten past Solo, the van exploding into flames as it was crushed.

Meanwhile, Solo was on his own path of destruction. As soon as he had rammed through that first tank, he had rammed into the tank following that one but stopped while still in it. Taking only a second to take in the shocked faces that greeted him, particularly that of a dark-skinned guy with some interesting spectacles, before he got down to business, punching a fist straight through the closest guy and hitting another's head off. Swinging a punch back, he threw his next blow into the dark skinned guy, sending him straight through the armored hull and straight into a passing van, said vehicle toppling onto its side and sliding a ways on the gritty soil. Bending his legs, the blond shot straight up out of the tank, taking the turret with him and throwing it like a missile at another tank that promptly exploded.

As he fell back down to earth, he watched as quite a few of the tanks stopped and turned towards him, the turrets aiming upwards and firing at him. Cursing, Solo crossed him arms in front of his face as exploding shell after exploding shell hit him. When the barrage was over, Solo landed on the ground with his bare feet, his pants managing to come out fine with only a couple of large, burned holes while his shirt was in tatters, his muscular upper body bare for all to see.

Rolling his eyes, Solo caught a fired explosive in midair with a hand, twisted his waist and altered the shell's flight to an escaping van, the dance of flames encircling it. Not paying any attention to it, though, Solo rushed a nearby tank and picked it up, hefting it above his head and throwing it at another tank; metal slammed against metal harshly, the airborne tank bouncing off and over the grounded tank, leaving a large dent in its hull as it continued flipping until it landing on its top, its wheels still spinning as the tank leaned to a side.

Spinning on his heels, the blond charged again, his elbow jutted in front on him with his fist being held tightly by his other hand in front of his chest, he rammed his elbow down into a tank turret just as it was about to fire again. Solo felt the shell ricochet off his elbow and back down the turret, the tank exploding into flames. Pulling his elbow out, he jumped off the flaming heap of metal without giving a second thought.

Back to Trowa, the young man dodged an incoming tank that tried to ram him. Tightening his grip on his sword, he slashed the top of the tank off, taking some heads with it as the sliced off metal slid off its perch.

Shrieks warned him of an incoming and Trowa gracefully leapt up high just as an explosive shell struck the side of the sliced tank. He flipped and landed on his feet with the grace of a cat, sprinting close to the ground as he headed straight for his next victim, his sword held parallel with his body behind him. Shifting to his left, he sliced his bladed root-sword as he passed another tank, cutting off the tank's right front tire, causing it to loose its equilibrium and run into the ground, leaning into the ground. The turret was turning, though, looking for him and just as it found him, he threw his sword straight down the turret, effectively stopping the tank from firing at him and most likely impaling the turret operator.

While weaponless for the moment, Trowa snapped his head towards his last tank and grew a tree under it, the tree's branches and trunk wrapping around the metal monster. A large root broke through the tank's hull, the root in question stained a particular shade of red as the rest of the tank was crushed slightly from the pressure exerted on it by the tree trunk.

Turning towards the previously incapacitated tank, Trowa grew another root-sword as he walked unhurriedly to it. Slashing downwards, he cut the front of the tank off and summoned another bramble of sharp-tipped roots to ram into the opening and out through the back.

Solo was dealing with the last of his by this time: one single tank that was driving about the desert ground frantically while one last van was turning around to try and make an escape. Solo chose to deal with the tank first as he leapt high up into the air and landed with a ton of force onto the front of the tank, taking out the engines right then and there. Jumping off, he walked calmly to the tank's side and cut his hand through the thick metal, ripping open the side and climbing in to deal with the last of the men still there. He took out the first two by slamming their heads together harshly and then turned to a screaming, young, light skinned man with a particular shade of glasses on his face just like that dark skinned guy from before. The blond winced at the sound of the screaming; this guy sounded just like a girl. Taking matters into his own hands, he curled his fingers into the guy's mouth and ripped the top of his head up, leaving only the lower jaw and tongue attached to the neck.

The blond ignored the gurgling sounds as he left the tank with an explosive shell in hand, stepping on the guy's set of teal colored spectacles and crushing them on the way out.

Looking towards the horizon where the last van was making a getaway, he weighted the shell in his hand before throwing it like a quarterback with a football. The blond smirked as the van exploded, signaling that he had made a direct hit.

"Done yet?" a cool Trowa asked, appraising the blown up van in the distance.

"Yeah, I think so," Solo answered, not looking at his comrade.

Eyeing Solo's apparel, the unibanged man commented, "Really let yourself go, eh?"

"They were askin' for it," Solo shrugged as he turned to head back to the church.

---

Admiral Noventa was not a very strict man which was one of the reasons why he was so well liked among his peers, from the lowest of privates to the commander-in-chief himself. He was a voice of reason, a cool head who could use logic to retard even the most hotheaded of people.

There was only one matter in which he became strict, though. That matter, of course, was when he headed to visit his granddaughter, Sylvia, out west in California at the family's ancestral homestead. It was more than a matter of necessity to have preparations for such a visit since his workplace was out in Washington D.C., on the East Coast. For months at a time, he would have to leave his granddaughter out there since she refused to leave and Noventa himself couldn't bear to have him upset with him. So leaving the house staff with explicit instructions to keep an eye on her and to make sure she didn't get into any trouble, he would leave to come to the place where the corruption in this great country was at its worst.

As you can see, he was very eager to pack up and leave for a couple weeks, the same amount of time to set aside every three months no matter what. Only a matter of great national security could prevent from going, it was that important to him.

As he was closing up his office, a knock on the door provided a slight delay in his travel plans. He resigned himself to wasting a few seconds sending this latecomer away as he walked to the door and opened it.

"Why Colonel, it's an unexpected pleasure to see you," he greeted to the young, aristocratic man just outside his door.

"As always, the pleasure's all mine," the young man, in Noventa's eyes, replied with a deep voice that could charm the clothes off any woman who heard it.

This young man was a rising star in the military, despite being in the Air Force, and was quite popular among the ground troops and pilots, though not at the level as Noventa himself. He was tall, almost as tall as the large Admiral himself with ginger colored hair and forked eye brows that exemplified the nobility of his facial features that seemed to have been carved from marble itself. He stood at attention and his posture remained straight even as Noventa gave him a silent "at ease" as he welcomed the man into his office.

"So Colonel Khushrenada, what can I do for you?" Noventa inquired as he sat in his chair behind the desk, gesturing for the colonel to do likewise.

Colonel Trieze Khushrenada, the pride of the American Air Force, answered, "I see that you are in the process of leaving. Going to visit Sylvia?"

"You know me well," Noventa said as he leaned back. "It's that time again and I refuse to miss a visit. Family is a thing that I value too much to let me forsaken by the politics of petty bureaucrats. So, what is it that you have to tell me, Trieze?"

"Project Maxwell," Trieze stated, immediately bringing in a somber presence into the conversation. "I've done the checking up you wanted me to do but I have come into an impasse. I was able to get information that it is a government contract under General Septum's name and that it was made out to X Associates, Inc. Other than that, I can't get much specifics other than it is a weapons development project."

Frowning, Noventa looked contemplative as he looked up towards his office's ceiling. "A weapons project you say? If that's all there is to it, why has Septum stalled on giving me the specifics on it? Do you think he's hiding something?"

"No doubt about it," Trieze confirmed. "He was the one that blocked any further access I obtained during my inquires. Is there any thing you would like me to do while you are visiting your granddaughter?"

Noventa chewed on his lip as he thought. What was Septum trying to hide? What about it was so important that Septum would risk his job security trying to protect and shroud it in a dark cloak of secrecy? This wasn't the first time he thought it fishy but his patience was beginning to reach its limit as he waited for his answers.

Coming to a course of action, he opened a drawer in his desk and pulled a form that he began to fill out. "Take this," he instructed to the colonel. "This will get you an all-clearance pass that not even Septum can override. Now I'm trusting you with this, Colonel. I only want you to look at anything involved with Project Maxwell and nothing else. Do you understand me?"

"Absolutely," Trieze replied. "I'll handle this while you're gone. Just enjoy the time with Sylvia and I'll have everything ready for by the time you get back."

"Thank you Trieze," Noventa said, relief flooding his features. "I don't know what I did to deserve you but God bless you. Be careful while you're looking into this, though. I don't want you to tip Septum off to anything."

"Of course, Admiral," Trieze said as he stood up, saluting the elder. "I'll get on this first thing in the morning."

"Get the pass first before you leave tonight," Noventa stated. "First thing in the morning, I want you finding me my answers."

"Understood," Trieze said. "Have a good time, Admiral. Get some rest while you're at it."

"I intend to," Noventa laughed as the door closed behind the colonel.

---

"He doesn't know anything about it," Trieze spoke into a cell phone as he briskly walked down the hallways of the Pentagon. "However, he has given me the means to find out everything about it. The moment I find out something, I'll be sure to alert you to it."

Pausing, though not stopping his walk, he listened to the reply over the phone before speaking again.

"Understood. Now if you'll excuse me, I have some matters to attend to before I retire for the rest of the day."

Hanging up, the young colonel shook his head sorrowfully, his thoughts going out to Admiral Noventa, his mentor, father figure, and the only person brave enough to stand up in the mire of conspiracies that fogged down the citadel where freedom was sown.


	13. Lost Treasure

Author's Note: Surprised by Alex and Mueller showing up? I felt that had it easy the last time I used them so this time it was no holds bar. Didn't really last long, did they? What can I say, equal opportunity... Anyway, back to some good ol' plot development. Enjoy.

Disclaimer: I do not own Gundam Wing.

Warning: language

Lost Treasure

Seeing that the church was still standing and unscathed was enough to put Solo at ease as he strolled towards it with Trowa at his side. He was curious how the others would react when they saw him again, especially with the way he looked. Then he thought to himself that he didn't care what they thought since the look on their faces would be the only thing that mattered.

Without trying, he opened the doors to the church chapel and continued strolling in, reveling in the shocked looks he was getting. He was a bit disappointed that Father Maxwell and Sister Helen were unaffected by his appearance but the looks from the others helped to but a balm on the injury to his pride.

"Be happy that this place gets ta stand another day!" he announced proudly with hands on his hips, resisting the urge to take some sort of stupid stance that one would see in an anime.

"Not the kind of greeting I would prefer but you do make an entrance," Trowa said dryly as he came up to the blond's side.

"Why wouldn't I?" Solo shrugged, eyeing Catherine as said person approached them, namely Trowa.

"You don't seem to be hurt," the ex-circus performer commented as she examined the unibanged young man critically. "You don't have any injuries inside you that I can't see, do you?"

"I'm fine!" Trowa protested at the treatment, flushing slightly in embarrassment.

"You would say that even if you had your stomach hanging out of you," Catherine replied wryly.

Chuckling, Solo looked away and caught sight of Dorothy looking at him and quickly adverting her eyes. Smirking, he strolled over to his chosen victim with malicious intent. "Like what ya see?" he teased as he stood before her.

"Like you have anything I would like," Dorothy sniffed, pointedly refusing to look at the blond, a light blush on her face.

"I beg to differ," Solo said dryly as he flexed an arm. "Ya can't tell me this doesn't turn ya on." He caught Dorothy taking a peek at him from the corner of her eye, her blush reddening to confirm it. Leaning down, he took her chin gently and turned her face to look at him against her will. "Ya know," he drawled, "you're kinda cute when you're blushin'. Ya should do it more often."

And with that, he put a swift peck on her lips, ignoring the strangled "oohs" from a secluded corner where a couple kids were hiding. Dorothy could only lift a hand up and lightly touched her lips that were still tingling. Solo didn't see that, though, as he was paying more attention to the sight of James emerging, holding something small between his fingers. The man raised an eyebrow at Solo's appearance but remained unaffected by it, much to Solo's disappointment.

"It seems like the crisis is adverted," James said. "I managed to turn it off and erase the data that it had been sending. Unfortunately, I wasn't able to pinpoint the location of where it was sending its feedback but as for now, we're safe."

"Give that ta me," Solo commanded, holding out his hand for the homing device.

Not seeing any reason not to, James did so and as the blond eyed the device, he curled his hand and fingers around it and crushed it. "There," the blond declared. "Now it can't be used again."

James stared flabbergasted at the sight but shook his head, telling himself that he should've known better.

"So where's that Japanese guy?" Solo continued, looking around for any hint of black hair that would give away his target.

"It's Chinese and I'm right here," a peeved Wufei answered, standing in the very hallway that James had just vacated. "As you can see, the church and orphanage is still standing. Have I proved myself yet?"

"Not yet," Solo replied bluntly. "Trowa and me took 'um all on and beat da shit out of them. But, ya did keep ya word, I think, so as long as ya ain't gonna attack me, I guess I could let ya roam free for a bit."

Wincing at Solo's atrocious grammar, Wufei said in reply, "Thank you…I think…"

"Okay, now tell me what ya know about Duo," Solo stated, bringing a groan of defeat from the Asian.

---

Xavien held an airgun in his hand, eyeing it critically as he inserted a vial filled with a purplish-clear liquid into it. Tightening the screws on it to make sure the vial was kept in place, he placed the end of the airgun against the skin of his lower arm and pulled the trigger, injecting the liquid from the vial straight into his body without need of a needle. Xavien remained in a relaxed position for a few minutes, letting the serum that he had just forced into his body circulate some before he removed the gun and inspected the mark left on his arm, nodding in satisfaction at it and beginning to put the gun away.

It had been some time since he had last taken a dose of his simple yet refined form of Solution 1051. He had begun to notice a gray hair in his head of brown hair and realized that he had been distracted by the current situation involving the escapades of #11085 and #12093 to keep up with his dosage regimen. If he wanted to maintain his youthful looks, he couldn't afford to miss his dosages for too long.

He had just finished rolling down the sleeve of his dress shirt when Malkov entered his office, empty of General Katsaris' presence for once. Raising an eyebrow, he inquired, "So what's going on on the home front?"

"We have lost all contact with the retrieval unit," Malkov stated, not hesitating to sugar coat his words, just the way Xavien liked it.

Frowning, he replied, "Then send out another one."

"That is another problem," Malkov said. "The homing device planted on 12101 deactivated and ceased all functions a few hours ago. When we tried bringing up the last known coordinates, we found the information had been somehow erased. Someone managed to hack into our computers using the device and…"

At this point, Malkov uncharacteristically trailed off, watching his employer whose face was steadily becoming red with anger by the second. Slowly but surely calming himself down, when Xavien finally spoke, it was with a quiet tone that promised death to the next person who crossed him.

"Are you telling me…that #12101 is now beyond our reach?" he asked, barely contained anger threatening to escape at any second.

Nodding his head, Malkov confirmed. "Yes."

The next few minutes were filled a loud, furious voice voicing so many profanities which escaped from the office, muffled only by the door but to those that could hear, it sent them away, trembling and afraid for their lives.

When he calmed down, Xavien stewed in his seat, Malkov still standing whereas others would have either been dead or cowering in a corner. Xavien took in a few deep breaths, trying to clear his head so that his next course of action wouldn't be too hasty nor would it be a resounding disaster. He couldn't rush into this; he needed to plan his next move well, as if this was a game of chess.

Centering himself and finding his cool-headed frame of mind, Xavien opened his different colored eyes, staring his number one down with intensity. Malkov only shifted from his weight from his left leg to his right, the only sign of his discomfort.

"It seems we'll have to return our focus back to capturing 11085 and 12093 for the time being," he finally said. "I guess we're going to have to let loose the angel boys."

---

Whoever came up with red-eye flights…Noventa was going to make it a personal matter to track the bastard down and dispense with him, Navy style. Still, he could probably let it go if it brought him that much closer to being with his granddaughter again, as was the case this time. Currently, he was being chauffeured towards his family estate via limousine.

Sometimes being in a position of power had its quirks.

That meant that he could rest his tired eyes after being trapped in an airtight capsule that was suspended over three thousand feet in the air, moving at hundreds, if not thousands, of miles an hour. That was the main reason why he preferred going into the Navy over the Airforce; he hated planes, no matter their shape, size, or purpose. He hated flying but it was just something he had to put up with and that was not one of the positive quirks of being who he was.

Despite it being the dark hours of early morning, the Admiral opened his sleep-deprived eyes and glanced out the window, watching the dark, wooded landscape of Southern California pass him by. Looking forward to the opened window that separated him from the driver, he could see the limo's headlights temporarily lighten the road until the vehicle passed by, putting the woods back into darkness again. It was almost enough to lull him to sleep; in fact, that was just what he had been about to do.

You see, when one enters the military, no matter what division it may be, you develop an ability to quickly spy out objects no matter the circumstances. Officers especially had to develop it so that they could read a person's body language, be they enemy combatants or privates-in-training, and pilots needed it to pick out enemy planes as they tear through the skies in their advanced fighter planes. Noventa had gained and developed this ability as well and as he looked straight past the driver and out into the briefly lighted road, something odd caught his eye.

"Stop the car!" he suddenly ordered, unsure why he had done so in the first place. However, the driver heeded him and the limo screeched to a stop.

"Is there something wrong, sir?" the driver asked, distressed by the Admiral's alarm.

"I thought I saw something by the road but I could just be imagining it," Noventa said after a long moment of silence that was only interrupted by harsh breathing. "Still, I don't think it would be a bad idea to check it out, just in case."

Nodding, the driver took out a large flashlight and got out of the car. Noventa followed suit as he unbuckled his seatbelt and opened the car door. The driver, an army man by the looks of him, looked at him questioningly but the elder officer waved the concern away as he took out a small pocket flashlight and began looking down the road, searching for whatever it was that he had seen.

A few minutes later with no results to show for it, Noventa was on the verge of giving up, blaming this whole ordeal on a hallucination that his aging mind played on him. As the light from his flashlight turned with him, he ran across something and the Admiral paused, debating whether or not to take another look, deciding to do so because it was stop whatever curiosity that had popped up in him and caused this madness in the first place.

That's when he saw the body. It was a young man, possibly a teenager who had long, thin cuts all over his body and his clothes looking as if they had gone through a war of some sort. Stunned at his finding, he waved his arm frantically without letting his eyes leave the unusual sight. It had been some time since he had last done anything involving medical attention but his driver did when he came to the Admiral's side. Immediately, the army man was at the teen's side, checking for any signs of life.

"He's still breathing," the man reported. "Shit, this kid needs a doctor or an ambulance."

Finally able to work with this, Noventa took command of the situation. "There's a doctor at the estate. We'll take him there for treatment and send him off to a hospital if his injuries are too serious. Let's get him into the car, quickly."

Despite looking thin and frail, the boy was a bit heavy, much to Noventa's surprise. More surprising was a slithering movement as he and his driver lifted the boy up, the movement revealing a very long braid that made the Admiral question the teen's gender. Shoving such questions out of his mind, he helped load the unexpected passenger into the car and quickly got inside himself.

It wasn't a minute later but the driver was already in the driver's seat and speeding down the road with an almost reckless abandon. With a snapped word of caution to slow down so that they didn't get into a needless accident, Noventa focused his attention on the male teen that laid on the bench seats of the limo. The lack of breasts was a dead giveaway but confirmation of an Adam's apple cemented the fact in the Admiral's mind.

But what was this child doing all the way out here? Where did he get injuries like this and how? He didn't believe such wounds could come from the local wildlife, especially since he had grown up in this area and knew practically everything about it. It was an intriguing mystery and Noventa loved solving mysteries. It was a private pastime of his and he was already determined to solve this new one that had practically dropped into his lap.

However, first thing was first and getting this boy some help came first, his hobby be damned. Only after it was confirmed that the boy would be all right and healthy would he try getting some answers but not until then.

Hmm, how was Sylvia going to react to this?


	14. Relieving Boredom: Rich Kid Style

Author's Note: I know you people have been wondering for the longest time when I am going to introduce Quatre into this story. Well, look no further. Pilot 04 finally gets involved but whose side is he really on? Also, introduce a new OC that belongs to my good pal Archsage Soren. When I first made the call for OCs back in The Maxwell Project, he offered his very first creation. After thinking about it some, I decided, eh, why not include her somewhere? Long story short, I ask AS if his offer still stood, he said yes, and voila. Enjoy.

Disclaimer: I do not own Gundam Wing or Archsage Soren's Kisari.

Warning: language

Relieving Boredom: Rich Kid Style

Quatre Winner, age 19, son of the wealthiest billionaire to have ever lived with the looks of an angel and the mean streak of a devil was indulging himself in a favorite past time of his: race car driving.

Of course, the word race didn't really apply at all since the word itself implies others being involved and a competition the center of it. No, he was really just driving extremely fast on a closed off race track owned by his father, his foot on the pedal and constantly pushing against and withdrawing from it with every turn he made. He loved the feeling of something rushing by him and the sense of speed as he sped his car of more satisfied his addiction to it. However, because there was a danger in it, he had on the best protection and equipment that money could buy, all guaranteed to keep his safe and alive in the case of an accident. In essence, he was in a deathproof car, a spoof off of his favorite parts in the Grindhouse movie that had come out some time ago.

_Master Quatre, it is almost time for you to stop_, a deep voice intoned over his intercom. _Your father wants to have lunch for you, if you remember?_

"I hear and remember just fine," the handsome blond man chirped back. He resisted the urge to roll his eyes at recalling his scheduled lunch appointment with his father, something that had been planned for a few weeks ago in advanced. Hey, when you run one of the largest corporations on the planet, you have to schedule everything, including your private life. Because he was in his element, though, he wouldn't take his own frustrations on his own staff just because his dick of a father couldn't time manage himself to save his life.

Making one last run around the track, he hit the brakes without warning, reveling in the screeching sound that his tires made against the pavement as he skidded to a stop, turning towards a side to take off more momentum but not turning sharply enough to send him and the car into a flip and roll. Finally coming to a stop, gray-white smoke catching up with the car, Quatre got out of the car and removed his helmet, re-exposing the world to his wild golden locks once more.

The grace with which he moved in, the way his eyes gleamed in the sunlight, the overall strength that his body broadcasted had won over and adored him to many of the opposite gender and it was something that he took full advantage of. If you could afford to be a playboy, why not do so? He had had numerous conquests in bed and he enjoyed the sense of power that they all gave to him.

It was something he had grown up not having for most of his life and he took whatever he could get whenever he could.

It didn't take long for him to approach a large, dark haired, bearded man who handed him a bottled water of the finest kind which he guzzled down, his throat muscles contracting and relaxing as the delicious liquid ran down his esophagus, providing a cooling relief to the blond heir. Despite what some people thought, it could get really hot inside the car since the car engine itself created a lot of it just so it could power the car to move. Plus the air conditioning in this particular car sucked.

It was his favorite car, so sue him.

"So where does my father want to meet, Rashid?" Quatre asked, not pausing once in his steady walk as he headed towards the showers to clean up. It wouldn't due to show up to lunch sweaty and stinking up to high heaven.

"He requests your presence at the north wing patio at the usual time," Rashid answered in his deep rumbling voice.

Quatre rolled his eyes at that and replied, "By God that man has no sense of adventure! It's always the same patio on the same wing every single time! It's almost hard to believe he's in charge of a multi-billion dollar company!"

"Now Master Quatre," Rashid admonished gently, "your father is a very smart man. If Allah intended him not to be 'adventurous' then you mustn't begrudge him that. It matters not if he is lacking in some areas as long as remains competitive with his two main rivals, is it not?"

"True," Quatre agreed, "but it doesn't mean he has to be a stick in the mud all of the time!"

Rashid chuckled in reply but said nothing more to his employer, preferring to remain silent as he attended the young man. That suited Quatre just fine since there was nothing else to say on the matter. The friendly silence reigned over the two, even as they took a golf cart the rest of the way to the main estate where Quatre quickly headed towards his quarters to clean up.

The feeling of warm, nearly hot water running down his muscled body, one that he took great pains to keep in fit, physical condition so as to attract the fairer of the sexes and keep them coming, he sighed in pleasure at the sensation covering his whole body. Letting the stream of water spray his head and wet his hair, he fingered a necklace that he hadn't removed, one in which a cross hung.

It was a common mistake that people made, assuming that the Winner family was Islamic or Muslim. Just because they made a lot of dealings and did a lot of business in the Middle East had no bearing on who exactly the Winners were. The truth was that the Winners were a prominent European family that were devoted Christians and would never dare to think about converting from their religion. Still, if the perception helped them in negotiations, who were the Winners to correct them? Whatever was good for business was good for business and they weren't going to do anything to mess with it.

Pleasant scents filled his bathroom as he shampooed and conditioned his hair; top of the line brands were, needless to say, the best and Quatre refused to use anything less. That included bodywash as well along with the best kind of loofah that was available on the market. Hey, he had to keep his skin soft and smooth and it helped to upkeep his natural angelic appearance. If people thought you were weak looking by your appearance, it was easy to take hold of the direction and turn everything up on its side. A cheap illusion, sure, but as long as people kept falling for it…

Once he was finished, he entered his bedroom, a towel wrapped loosely around his waist, another smaller one being used to dry his hair. Tossing the small towel onto his head, he picked up a folder that had been placed on his bed some time during his shower. He opened it an scanned the contents of it intently, closing it up a minute later. He pondered on the report within the folder, even as he took out the suit he would wear to the luncheon, trying to figure an angle to it.

Recently, there had been some freakish and odd weather phenomenon in Central Arizona, something he had been keeping tabs on out of personal interest. What most people didn't know that while his father dealt with the public face of Winner Enterprises, he, Quatre, had been delegated tasks that dealt with its more darker side, one that would appall the public should they ever know of it. It was through his more "illegal" contacts that he had been hearing rumors of some government project, one that was meant to produce "living weapons," all of them having unique abilities.

Normally, he wouldn't put much stock into something that sounded like it came from a cheesy fiction book. Who in their right mind would want to read such crap?

However, peculiar recent incidents made his reconsider his previous beliefs. Specifically, there was a town in the middle of nowhere becoming a charred patch of land and a circus looking as if a bomb had detonated in the middle of it. Unprecedented storms of such an intensity that no one living could recall others and a weather anomaly occurring in the middle of nowhere, again, was really heightening his suspicions. What if such a program existed? If it was possible to create "living weapons" then why wasn't WEI doing the same thing? Much of the products that the public consumed today had military origins from GPS's to M&M's. One just had to have imagination and be able to twist such things into everyday consumer products. If only there was a way to get his hands on more information if not an actual specimen!

He would have to keep an eye out for anything else, that's all there was to it. Picking up a phone, he made a quick call to some "unsavory" characters that Winner Enterprises didn't acknowledge existed but kept on their private paybooks, even as he had difficulty trying to zip up his pants.

---

Sylvia Noventa was the kind of girl who had it all: wealth, youth, all the clothes she could ever want, a big house, no need or wants…

Then again, she was just sixteen going on seventeen so that would explain the youth factor but as a young teenager these days, she was bored. Bored out of her mind as she tossed aside the latest edition of Teen Magazine and huff her annoyance as nothing else came up to distract her. Sure, she was blonde, had the clearest blue eyes a guy could ever see, beauty that could contest with a model's any day of the week, but she wasn't stupid. She had quite the brain to tell the truth and was pretty smart. However, that brilliance wasn't helping her at all when it came to relieving herself of her boredom.

"So bored…" she groaned out, getting a response from her fellow female companion.

A fellow blonde, one with black and light blue highlights streaking her naturally straight hair (at least she thought they were highlights) and dress in a long, dark, gothic dress complete with lacy frills on it, replied, "Don't you have a boyfriend to entertain you or something?" Her green eyes flash upwards to look at the other blonde quizzically, pausing from painting her fingernails with black nail polish. Sylvia could never understand why her friend never went the whole way and dyed her hair black to complete her look, even when she was told that she "didn't want to conform with all those goth wannabes."

"No, I don't," she answered. "You should know that Kisari."

"Forgive me for not knowing ever single detail of your life," Kisari shrugged, going back to painting her fingernails. "Shouldn't your grandfather be back by now or something?"

"He is," Sylvia replied as she rolled onto her back to stare up at her bedroom's ceiling. "He came in last night but I haven't seen him all morning yet. I guess he's busy or something."

"Why don't you go bother him instead of me?" Kisari asked, sounding as if she putted up with morons all the time.

Letting her head hang off the edge of her bed so she could glare at the other girl upside down, she said, "I might just do that, oh wise one."

"About time you figured that one out," Kisari smirked, referring to the "wise one" comment.

"As soon as you're done with your nails," Sylvia continued, this time being the one to smirk as Kisari jerked in surprise, getting black nail polish on her finger.

"Can't do anything without me, can you?" Kisari grumbled as she shot a glare at Sylvia before working to wipe her finger clean with a small hand cloth. "Fine, I'll hold your hand like a child since you want me so much."

"Yeah, and that's the day I become a lesbian," Sylvia retorted, rolling back onto her stomach.

"Be careful what you wish for," Kisari warned.

"I'm not wishing, it's a statement of fact," Sylvia replied smugly, finally mustering the energy to get off her bed. "Come on, we'll go to the bathroom and wash that stuff off."

"But I'm not finished!" Kisari exclaimed.

"So? You can finish up later," Sylvia stated as she hauled the other girl up and out of her room.

---

Noventa smiled fondly down at the braided boy who remained curled up on his office couch, fast asleep and showing no signs of waking up anytime soon. It had been quite a relief when his private doctor had just diagnosed the boy's injuries as superfluous and needing only the barest of medical treatment with no need for any other medical practitioner to take a look.

Hearing that, Noventa determined to keep the strange boy here until he woke up and answered some questions so that the Admiral could be sure the boy would get back to where he belonged. Also, he was very curious about all those cuts and scraps the boy had. How had it been possible he hadn't gotten any infections from them, especially since he didn't know how long the boy had been out in the wilderness.

Still, if he had had a grandson, he could imagine watching the child sleep just like this boy was. It was amusing, despite the Band-Aids on him, as the boy snuggled further into the couch, wrapping the blanket around him tighter to keep more warmth. He hadn't seen a sight like that in years, not since Sylvia was a little girl…

…and especially not after his granddaughter made the acquaintance and friendship of that friend of hers, Kisari…

He didn't like that other girl; for some reason she rubbed him wrong. He didn't think she was a good influence on his only granddaughter and the last of his living relatives but she had become a near fixture in the estate as Sylvia seemed to enjoy her company so much.

A small knock on his office's door interrupted his musings. Not wanting to disturb the boy's sleep, he quickly made his way to the door and cracked the door open, smiling as he saw the sight of Sylvia on the other side. It was always a pleasure to see the girl who was growing up to be a fine young woman and this time was no exception as he opened the door fully to allow her in. He successfully fought against frowning at the sight of Kisari who followed her granddaughter in; while he didn't like the girl, he would tolerate her if just for Sylvia's sake.

"Who's this grandfather?"

Turning away from Kisari, Noventa noticed Sylvia looking down at the form on his couch and he smiled slightly at the sight. He had guessed it would have been a matter of time before Sylvia found out about their guest so what was the point in playing games now?

With a small smile growing on his face as he gaze fondly at Sylvia and the boy, he answered, "A guest I picked up last night while on the way home. If I hadn't been looking, I would have missed him and left him on the side of the road. Lucky for him, that didn't happen and the doctor told me his injuries just looked worse than they actually do. So, until he wakes up and tells me where he's from, he'll be staying here for a while."

Normally, he would've added "if that's okay with you," but its absence was more than enough to catch his granddaughter's attention. She cast a look up at him, silently asking him to finish his sentence, not knowing that he already had.

He just smiled kindly at her and pretended not to understand what she was trying to convey, adverting his eyes to the sight of the sleeping boy once more as he shifted in his sleep to a more comfortable position.

"He is kinda cute," Kisari spoke up, looking over the back of the couch and down at the boy. "I wonder what his name is…"

With a long-nailed hand, she reached down to the boy's hair, attempting to stroke the chestnut locks like a mother would but just as her fingers were about to make contact, the boy's eyes snapped open. The transition from unconsciousness to awareness had been smooth and quick, almost unnoticeable except to those like the Admiral, and strangely violet eyes roamed over them with fright, the boy pushing himself to an arm of the couch and attempting to shrink himself in his fear. Kisari's hand remained outstretched and the girl made no attempt to retract it as she scrutinized the boy, curious about his startled reaction.

Violet eyes studied her for a minute before the boy spoke up with a childish voice, "You're not Sister Helen! You're too ugly!"

Noventa had to restrain himself from barking out loud in laughter, settling for chuckling in good humor to let his amusement out. Sylvia looked scandalized by the boy's words, much to his further amusement, and Kisari could only stare in shock at the boy's declaration. His chuckling captured the attention of the violet eyed boy who snapped his head towards him, frowning at him after a few seconds of looking at him.

"You're not Father Maxwell…are ya?" he asked, his uncertainty loud and clear in his voice.

"No, I'm not this Father Maxwell," he asked with honesty. "Never heard of such a man before but I take it you know someone by that name, am I right?" The boy nodded his head hesitantly, affirming the Admiral's guess. "You need not be so nervous here, no one is going to bring you any harm. But, I do believe you owe Kisari an apology; it's not nice to say such things to a lady's face."

Tilting his head in the direction of said girl, the boy looked towards the shell-shocked girl, still reeling from his earlier comment. "But it's true," he said, "she is uglier than Sister Helen."

That snapped the slighted girl out of her daze quick enough. "Well, you're not the looker yourself!" she snapped.

Not offended, the boy shrugged. "Truth's truth and I don't lie. Lyin' is the worst thing ya can ever do."

"True enough," Noventa acknowledged, "but it's not polite to say such things to a lady's face."

"It isn't?" the boy asked, tilting his head to a side in confusion.

"Most certainly," the Admiral assured as he took a seat on the opposite end of the couch, letting the boy know where he was at all times. "So, to do the polite thing now would be to apologize. You don't want to let her have hurt feelings over this, do you?"

"Guess not," the boy answered, slightly sullen. "Sorry," he said to Kisari though he didn't look her in the eyes, Noventa noticed. Still, it was a start and he wouldn't press for more now, not until he knew more about the boy.

"Atta' boy," he praised, smiling warmly at the boy who smiled hesitantly back at him. "So what name do you go by?" he asked. "Don't think you'd appreciated it much if I just called you 'boy' all the time, eh?"

"It's Duo," the boy answered, shifting in his seat and uncurling slightly.

"And I'm Nathaniel Novanta," Noventa continued. "You may call me Nathan, if you want to, and over there is my granddaughter, Sylvia."

Looking in the direction that the Admiral gestured in, Duo's eyebrows rose up as he caught a look of the still shocked Sylvia Noventa, violet eyes taking in the girl who seemed to notice just now that she was the subject of a boy's scrutiny.

"What?" she asked, getting a little uncomfortable over the boy's examination of her as the boy continued to stare.

"Ya not bad lookin'," the boy finally said after an anxious silence, for the girl. "You're better than her," he continued, gesturing towards Kisari who glared at the back of his head, "but you're not as pretty as Sister Helen either. Sorry," he shrugged, looking back at Noventa for approval.

Noventa was really liking this child, this Duo. Despite insulting the two girls, no matter how blunt or subtle the insult was, he had this charm about him, the kind usually associated with that of a child. He was caught in Duo's spell, he was sure of it, but he didn't think he would want to escape from it anytime soon. It had been a long time since he had had to deal with someone like this, ever since Sylvia first started becoming a rebel he hadn't had the ability to surround himself with children like he hope he would have had this late into his life. Instinct was shouting at him to do what he originally planned but he couldn't seem to force himself to heed such calls.

And how could he not? Just look at that little innocence Duo was radiating from every pore of his body. It was almost as if he had another grandchild again.

Meanwhile, Sylvia could clearly read the emotions going through her grandfather's mind by watching his face. She could tell that he was becoming enraptured by this strange boy with the weird name but she didn't know what she could do about it. As she glanced back at said boy, she couldn't help but notice the features that had caused Kisari to call him "cute." His face was cherubic and he seemed to act like a kid. How old was he anyway? And what was that? That looked like a braid…a braid of hair…of his hair! Holy cow, how long had he been growing that thing?! Pretty long, telling by its length.

Noticing the scowl on Kisari's face, she knew automatically that her best friend was holding a grudge against this kid for calling her ugly not once, but twice. However, she couldn't seem to muster up the willpower to join her friend on this one as his charm was starting to affect her.

And none of them noticed the streaks of crimson that quietly flashed in Duo's eyes before vanishing away just as quickly as they showed up.


	15. Viva Las Vegas!

Author's Note: Guess who's back! The hint's in the title but if you can't guess, just read and you'll find out. Enjoy.

Disclaimer: I do not own Gundam Wing.

Warning: language

Viva Las Vegas!

"So let me get this straight," Trowa said, a frown on his face. "With no clue to where you're heading to or even an idea of what could be waiting to attack you, you're just going to go find Duo? And then what? Even if you do succeed, where will you go, especially since you know they're not going to leave you or Duo alone until you're either dead or captured."

"Well it's better than sittin' 'round here doin' nothing," Solo shrugged, not actually admitting to or denying Trowa's statement.

"You are easily the craziest son of a bitch I have ever met," Trowa sighed, shaking his head as if stunned at the amount of bravado, or stupidity, the blond was displaying.

"Beats bein' normal," Solo shrugged again. "So are ya comin' with me or not? If not, then don't think 'bout tryin' ta stop me, ya hear?"

"I hear," Trowa said. It was actually a no-brainer about what he was going to do. Solo was going to be the death of him someday, he swore. If it wasn't due to his ever constant pursuers, it would be something like a heart attack, he could feel it in his gut. "Just tell me when you're going to be heading out, ok?"

Smirking, Solo replied, "Can't resist this beauty of mine, huh. Can't say I can blame ya."

"No, you just have a knack of running into trouble like a kid and germs," Trowa retorted. "You'll find some no matter where you go and it would be irresponsible of me to just let you wander around the American West when you need a babysitter."

Solo frowned. "That was an insult, wasn't it?"

"You bet that mane of yours it is," Trowa said.

"You're both crazy," James cut in. "You might as well put bull's-eyes on your backs while you're at it."

"That's not a bad idea," Solo mused, looking contemplative.

"Hopeless," James sighed as he walked away, probably to brood, Solo didn't care.

Stretching his arms above his head from where he sat on a pew, Solo jumped to his feet like a little kid would and sounded just as eager as one when he spoke his next words. "No time like the present, eh? Sooner we go, sooner we can find Duo."

"Crazy," Trowa said to himself despite the small smile growing on his face.

Having not heard the unibanged young man, Solo turned around and found himself nearly running over Dorothy who glared up at him, her arms crossed expectantly. "Jesus, ya pop up everywhere, don't'cha?" Solo said.

"So you think you're going to leave me behind, don't you?" the blonde girl asked lightly though her voice held steel just beneath them, something Trowa saw clearly but Solo…didn't.

"That's the plan," Solo shrugged, scratching the back of his head.

"I don't think so," Dorothy stated, her glare intensifying.

"Ya still haven't forgotten 'bout that?" Solo complained. "Can't ya give it a rest already?"

"Sorry, but until you can make it up to me, I'm not letting you leave my sight," the girl replied.

"Your just gonna slow me down!" Solo whined childishly.

"Deal with it," Dorothy said in response, not in the least won over by Solo's attempt to dissuade her. "If I have to deal with my home being destroyed, you can deal with me tagging along."

Watching as the two began to banter back and forth, Trowa remained where he was, silent as ever with his small smile still on his face. He knew how this was going to turn out but he thought that it would be better for him to just stand back and watch what happens.

Catherine soon joined him, watching Solo get verbally crushed by the smaller blonde girl with the forked eyebrows, a small smile also gracing her lips.

Momentarily looking up at her, Trowa asked, "You going to join us or do your own thing?"

Catherine didn't respond for a couple minutes, probably pondering his question over, Trowa supposed. When she did, "Nah, I'll just let you do what you need to do. I'd slow you down too much and besides, I'm out of my league on this one."

"Think you can convince Dorothy the same thing?" Trowa asked.

"Not even going to try," Catherine answered, shaking her head. "It's her life, why should I mess with it?"

"Then what'll you do without me?" Trowa wondered out loud.

"Who knows?" Catherine replied. "But whatever it is, I'll be sure to send you word of it, most likely a letter to this place so you can find it easier than if you tried to track me all over the country."

"True, true," Trowa agreed. "Doesn't mean I won't miss you, though."

"Same here," Catherine said, moving to a side so that she could wrap an arm around him in a one-armed hug. "You take care of yourself Trowa. Don't you dare get yourself killed over something stupid, you hear."

"I hear," Trowa acknowledged, his smile now sad. "I'll miss you."

"I know you will," Catherine said. "And so will I."

---

They had finally made it.

After so long and after so much hardship, from simple things like their truck breaking down to unbelievable things like a fiery tornado chasing after them, Heero and Relena, high school sweethearts and remaining survivors of what used to have been Boulder, Arizona had finally made it to Las Vegas.

From their vantage point, Sin City was small, much smaller than either of them had expected despite seeing the Strip and all the renowned hotels and casinos that lined it, but it was a welcome sight over harrowing days and nights where both of them were scared out of their minds, worried that they might be tracked down by those strange boys with the unbelievable powers they wielded. No more would they have to worry, though.

They were in the clear!

It didn't matter that the rusty old pickup truck that Heero had stolen had finally conked out and died. He and Relena were safe, even as he looked over at the girl whose eyes were shimmering with such emotion that he thought that tears would spill any minute. It didn't matter if she did so, he would understand it since he felt like doing the same. To make this moment that much more perfect, he wrapped his arm around the girl and brought her close.

An hour later found the two wandering the streets where they both now faced a new dilemma, one in which Heero hadn't considered on their way here. Shouldn't that convention his parents were attending be over by now? And if so, what reason would they have to stick around here? They probably thought that Heero was dead, especially if they couldn't reach him by phone or any other means.

But they had to try, Heero determined. They had come this far so why call it quits now? They hadn't called it quits when Solo and Duo held him against his will; they hadn't called it quits when their homes were completely destroyed; they hadn't called it quits when they were separated from Dorothy after the nightmare of the circus attack.

No, it was time to put a resolution to this, once and for all.

It was about an hour of walking around the small city that Relena finally spoke up. "Heero, do you know _which_ hotel they're staying at?"

Sadly enough, he didn't but he wasn't about to tell her that. That last thing he needed was for her to get mad at him for overlooking that small detail, especially since he hadn't bothered to find out back in Boulder right before it was destroyed. However, he did have something that could be just as good as that.

His parent's cell phone number. Since his own phone wasn't on him and Relena's was missing as well, he would have to risk using a payphone and pray that it would connect them to the only people who could help them out. It was needless to say that Relena was a little put out when her boyfriend didn't answer her and instead headed for the nearest phone, digging through his pockets for the appropriate amount of change. He barely had enough, or at least he barely had the kind of coins that the machine would take. It was a moment later that he had dialed the cell phone number and began praying for all he was worth. There was nothing coming from the phone itself, the longer it remained silent, the more despair the Japanese youth felt.

And then he heard it, the sound of a phone ringing. It was the most welcomed sound that he had heard in a long time but they weren't out of the woods yet. He needed for one of his parents to answer first and only then could he say that their journey was over.

"_Yuy speaking,_" the voice masculine yet soft voice of his father answered after the fourth ring. He sounded a bit hurried, as if he was extremely busy but Heero was sure that he would drop everything for the chance to speak to his son, his only child, again.

"Father," he said into the phone, his deep voice full of relief.

He paused as silence answered him from the phone and for a moment he was afraid that his father had hung up and dismissed him a prank caller. It wouldn't be the first time that happened.

"_Heero?_" his father suddenly spoke up, his voice raw and desperate. "_Is that really you?_"

Heero could practically hear the tears in that voice and he answered, "Yeah, it's me."

"_I…I thought you were dead!_" his father exclaimed. "_So did your mother! How is this possible?_"

"Dad," he interrupted. "I'm in Las Vegas and Relena's with me. I need to know where you and mom are at. Where are you? Are you still at the convention?"

"_No, we are not,_" his father answered. "_The convention was canceled when we heard about what happened. It was feared that the same unnatural storm that struck Boulder would strike here but it did not._"

"So are you still in Vegas?" Heero asked, loosing a bit of his patience. His father tended to answer all questions directed to him at length so one would loose their patience real easy with him if they didn't interrupt him and demanded a short answer. It also didn't help that English was his father's second language and he wasn't good enough with it to speak it quickly without using all the slang words that made it much simpler to communicate.

"_Yes, we still are Heero. We had nowhere else to go and we were so worried—_"

"Where are you staying?" Heero interrupted. He was running out of time on the phone and wanted to get an answer before they were cut off.

"_The MGM._"

"Which one is that?"

"_It's the large green building._"

"Large green building," Heero repeated, already scanning their surroundings to locate it. "We'll meet you up front, okay?"

"_Be careful,_" his father cautioned, Heero giving him a farewell and hanging up. Since no change came out, he suspected that he had used all the money he had put into the machine but could have cared less about.

"So where are they?" Relena asked the moment Heero had hung up.

"MGM," he said. "It's the large green building, whatever that means."

"Heero?" Relena spoke up, pointing her finger at something behind the Japanese teen.

Raising an eyebrow, he looked in the direction she was pointing in and saw a large, wide, green-striped building a few blocks down from them. "I guess that's it," he mused.

"You think?" Relena replied sarcastically.

Heero could only sigh at that. That girl had no appreciation for all the things he did for her. Still, he loved her no more and no less for it.

---

It was truly one of those classical moments.

Of course it was the highly embarrassing, made-a-teen-want-to-shoot-himself-in-the-head, kind of moment but it was a classical one nonetheless if you counted Heero's mother wailing out loud at the sight of her "baby boy" as part of it.

It was quite easy to see where Heero got his looks from. His father was in everyway the classic looking Japanese man: short, black-haired, and skinny. His mother, though she was only one-quarter Caucasian, had the brown hair and blue eyes that everyone up in his life had associated him with and unlike his father, her first language was English and she could wield it pretty well. The only thing she didn't have was his height so with a short, three-quarters Japanese, one quarter Caucasian woman dangling from his neck and crying out like a madwoman, it was very easy to see why he was the center of attention among the many spectators who were coming in and going out of the hotel.

"Mom," he hissed under his breath. Though he didn't want to, he had to do it if only for the sake of his manly pride. "Can you wait until we're somewhere private? This is embarrassing!"

His mother's only response was to wail even louder.

Heero's only response was to groan as he was forced to suffer more humiliation.

And all the while, Relena looked on with a smile on her face. However, if one were to take a closer look at it, one would find it not a joyous one but a sad one, one with which the corners of her mouth trembled as they fought to keep themselves upturned. It was great that Heero's parents, his family, was all right but she couldn't help but think about hers. Were they still alive? And if so then were they hurt or worse, dieing? There were so many unanswered questions and none of them had any foreseeable answers.

Due to the scene Heero's mother was making, no one noticed this and Relena preferred it that way. She didn't want to put a damper on this occasion, not one that was so happy such as this one.

Meanwhile, Heero had managed to gently pry his mother off of him but that still didn't mean she was not making a scene. By now, though, Heero's father was getting flustered by it and was at her side trying to calm her down while Heero remained standing where he was, his teenage reputation in shambles.

"That was quite the sight, Mr. and Mrs. Yuy," a gruff voice spoke.

Heero's father paled at the sound of the voice and for the first time in his life, Heero saw a flash of fear in the Yuy patriarch's eyes. Looking up, Heero had to admit to himself that maybe he had natural cause for that, especially since the owner of the voice was a large, long-haired, wrinkled, ugly man with the beadiest eyes he had ever seen on anybody.

From the sight of this man alone, Heero had a bad feeling about him in his gut.

"Please excuse her Mr. Tsubarov," his father said, trying to placate the man. "We've just been worried about our son; he's been missing for quite some time and…"

"Is that any excuse to make such a ruckus here?" Tsubarov interrupted dryly. "You should tell your wife to keep such things in private. Not everybody wants to see something like that."

Heero really didn't like this Tsubarov guy now. "Don't talk to my parents like that!" he snapped, balling his hands into fists.

"You got a lot of balls saying that to me," Tsubarov stated without a trace of fear or awe in his voice. If anything, he sounded disproving.

"When a guy throws a Ferris wheel at you, you don't have to be afraid of anything," Heero retorted.

Tsubarov's brow furrowed. "Ferris wheel? What are you…?" Trailing off, his eyes lit up with an ominous light. "Yuy, you live in Boulder, Arizona, do you not?"

"Yes Mr. Tsubarov," Heero's father answered, unsure of what his boss was planning.

"Thank you Yuy," Tsubarov said, his beady eyes focused solely on Heero and not in a good way either. "You, boy, I have some questions I want to ask you."

"I'm not going to answer shit for you," Heero snarled as he launched himself at the large man, his temper snapping. He threw a punch a Tsubarov as he charged him, putting his strength into the planned blow but Tsubarov was already countering. His large hand latched onto Heero's thrown fist and pulled it towards a side, just missing him but causing Heero to stumble and loose his balance. Tsubarov brought his knee up and rammed it into Heero's gut harshly, knocking the air out of the Japanese teen's body and forcing him to the ground.

"Heero!" Relena shrieked, terrified at the turn in events.

"Mr. Tsubarov!" Heero's father cried out, fury in his voice. "How dare you—"

"Your son has answers that Mr. Romafellor himself would find particularly interesting," Tsubarov interrupted.

"No, please don't," Heero's father began to beg as he approached Tsubarov. "We just got him back, please don't take him away from us! Please!"

"No can do Yuy," Tsubarov replied, not at all sway. Looking up, he spotted Relena. "That girl came with him didn't she? Guess your son won't be alone Yuy."

"Relena!" Heero coughed. "Run!"

That was all the catalyst needed to jumpstart the girl. Unfortunately, she was too late as hotel security had come upon the scene by then, all of them not dressed as typical security guards, and had closed off her exit, grabbing hold of her to prevent her from running.

"No! Tsubarov please!" Heero's mother pleaded as she got onto her knees before the man.

"Would you deny Mr. Romafellor himself?" Tsubarov deadpanned, remaining silent for a few seconds to see if she would answer, an answer that never left her lips as she began to breakdown into sobs. "Thought so," he continued, looking down at a broken Mr. Yuy. "Take your woman out of here. No need to call on more attention than we need," he ordered.

His body was jolted as Heero rammed his body into him, trying to take him down with a tackle but Tsubarov remained standing. Raising a fist up, he plunged it down and slammed it into the back of Heero's head harshly, causing the teen to fall back down limply.

"Youngsters today are more trouble than they're worth," Tsubarov muttered as two strangely dressed security guards picked the unconscious teen up. "I want these two on a plane to L.A. within the hour. I want to bring them to Mr. Romafellor personally."

"Yes sir," one of the guards answered, working with his partner to carry Heero away into the air conditioned interior of the MGM Hotel.

Relena, though, was struggling with all the might she had, which, when compared to Heero, wasn't much. She screamed as loud as she could, hoping to attract any kind of helpful attention but failing miserably.

Tsubarov watched with a smirk as she was also taken into the hotel, knowing the truth as to why no one was helping. Las Vegas belonged to the Romafellor Corporation, everything from land properties and buildings to the government and those employed by it. Those security guards holding the teens were direct Romafellor employees and they stuck around only the higher ups of the company of which Tsubarov was a member.

This was turning out to be quite the day and, if he was lucky, would turn into a fantastic one if he could get his "findings" to the eyes of Mr. Romafellor himself! He ignored the sorrowful sight of the Yuys, giving a nearby security guard/Romafellor employee instructions to "subdue" the two before they could try to get any of this out to any media sources.

Even though this whole town belonged to Romafellor, it wouldn't do to attract too much attention…


	16. Romafellor the Interrogator

Author's Note: Think things are bad for Heero and Relena? Think again. Enjoy.

Disclaimer: I do not own Gundam Wing.

Warning: language

Romafellor the Interrogator

In the end, Tsubarov found himself receiving attention for his actions in Nevada only it was not the kind he had been looking for.

Romafellor's hardened eyes bored into the trembling man mercilessly and not amused in the slightest. He knew everything about the in broad daylight abduction and the…unfortunate accident that befell both of the adult Yuys recently and while he didn't give a whit about such matters, he was more _peeved_ about his employee's highly illegal actions that had taken quite a bit of bribing money to soothe over.

That would be money, he made a mental note, coming out of that idiot's salary and next paycheck…

Nevertheless, he had both the boy and the girl, both survivors of the incident in Arizona, and potential witnesses to the fruits of Project Maxwell itself. It was priceless information that would give him a look into whatever it was that his competitive rival Xavien was up to and maybe even take advantage of it to one up Winner. However, a reprimand was still in order. He was still in charge here and he had to show that he still had teeth that he was willing to pierce into any unlucky fool's being.

"I-I-I th-thought you'd be p-p-pleased!" the normally confident Tsubarov stuttered.

"Are you an expert in what pleases me and what doesn't please me?" Romafellor's soft voice asked dryly. "While I am comforted in the knowledge that I have two living witnesses of the Arizona disaster, I am most dissatisfied by your actions in Nevada. You have nearly cost me, no the entire corporation, to loose its hold on the City of Sin itself and for what? A little boy and girl whom you could've had abducted in their sleep and stolen away in the night? But instead, you judged that moment right then and there, in front of a live audience, to perform your crime and that is why I am not…pleased."

"F-forgive, Mr. Romafellor," Tsubarov begged. "I was a-a-a bit hasty in my actions—"

"Hasty is a bit of an understatement," Romafellor interrupted wryly. "No, from what I've heard, it was impulsive and rash, something that is completely unlike you. This company did not get to where it is based on impulsive and rash decisions, Tsubarov. So, to punish you, I have already taken the appropriate measures as I have seen fit. Dock in pay and salary for one year and repossession of a few of your…possessions. Which ones will they be, you'll find out when you get home. I can do worse, much worse but right now we are at an intersection and I want to be sure that the correct path is chosen. Next time, I will not be so lenient."

"I understand," Tsubarov said, bowing his head.

"Make sure it doesn't happen again," Romafellor said sternly, "else there won't _be_ a next time. Now, tell me what you know about those children you brought in…"

---

He had no idea how long he may have been out but when he finally woke up, Heero was groggy, pissed, and the back of his head was killing him with everything throb he felt from it. It took maybe a few seconds for him to clear out the cobwebs in his brain as he recalled the last things he remembered: meeting up with his parents, said parents getting made fun of by some large guy called Tsubarov, and then him attacking Tsubarov for…

His eyes flared open as every detail became crystal clear but he was forced to close them abruptly with a groan since the room he was currently in was too bright for such a thing. He massaged his closed eyelids with his fingertips for a few seconds before he dared to crack open his eyes again, letting them adjust first so that he could take in his surroundings and possibly find that asshole Tsubarov and put him in a hurt locker.

He didn't see Tsubarov anywhere but what he did find was that he was sitting in a wheeled, reclining chair that was positioned against a long boardroom table and seated right across from him was an unconscious Relena.

Relena!

He jolted out of his seat and over the table, rather than going around it, to get to her side, his anger momentarily forgotten as concern for his girlfriend became top priority.

"Relena!" he exclaimed softly as he tapped the side of her face, trying to wake her up and see if she was okay. He felt relief flood his body when the girl emitted a moan and woke up from her slumber, a hand setting itself on her forehead as if she was suffering from a headache of some kind. "Relena!" Heero nearly cried out. "Are you all right?"

"Heero?" the blonde girl asked aloud. "Is that you? Where are we?"

Choosing that moment to ignore those questions, he embraced Relena tightly, planting his face into the crook of her neck and shoulder and taking in her scent with each breath he took. Relena allowed this to prolong itself mainly because she was scared, didn't know what was going on, and needed all the comfort she could get.

"I hope I am not interrupting anything."

The voice, the unfamiliar and unexpected voice, ended their moment quicker than Duo changed personalities and the two teens' heads snapped up towards the opened doors of the boardroom where a short, elder man stood. They hadn't even heard those doors open and the old man watching them with cold blue eyes that seemed to look straight through them and into their very souls.

"Who are you?" Heero demanded, his nostrils flaring like a bull.

There wasn't even a sign of a smile pulling on those lips. Nothing warm or comforting was uttered either when the man began to speak again. "And here I thought everyone on the planet knew who I am. I haven't heard anybody ask me that question in decades."

"That still doesn't answer my question," Heero retorted, standing up to his full height, easily towering over the man.

Nothing, not even the raising of an eyebrow. The man did, however, stroll away from the doors that had closed behind him long ago and headed towards a vacant chair that he took a seat in, getting comfortable in it and crossing his legs. Again, Heero tried to intimidate the now seated man by straightening his back and crossing his arms over his chest.

"If you think that you're daunting me, boy, you might as well stop right now," the man said dryly. "I've had bigger and better men do that and not once have I ever been intimidated. The only thing you can do right now is take a seat and answer some questions I have for you."

"Not until you tell me who you are," Heero growled.

"Back to this are we?" the man replied. "I have but one name and no others. You may call me Mr. Romafellor and Mr. Romafellor only."

"Mr. Romafellor?" Heero repeated, raising an eyebrow. Mr. Romafellor…why did that name sound so familiar?

"Romafellor as in the Romafellor Corporation?" Relena spoke up, her voice a little shaky.

"Correct, my dear," Romafellor answered. "I am the owner, the founder, and the head of the Romafellor Corporation, one of the largest firms in the world. However, what I am is not of consequence and what you know is."

"What we know? Stop speaking in riddles," Heero snapped, loosing his patience. He felt Relena tug on his clothing but he ignored it. He wasn't about to let some old man push him around, not after all the shit that he had been through up to now.

"It's not a riddle," Romafellor said, his soft voice the poster child of patience. "As I said before, I have some questions and you have the answers to said questions. What is so difficult about that concept to grasp? Do you have any mental deficiencies that I am not aware of?"

"Why don't you tell me, 'Mr. Romafellor,'" Heero snarked.

"Very well then," Romafellor said. "You are Heero Yuy, a Japanese American that is seven-eights oriental and one-eight white Caucasian. You grew up and live in the recently vacated community of Boulder, Arizona, have traveled all the way to Las Vegas, Nevada to reunite with your parents who were supposedly attending a conference held by my company. You are seventeen years of age, have experienced multiple broken bones when you were just a small child before you bulked up by lifting weights and doing other various strength-building exercises, becoming the first freshman at your school to join up immediately with the varsity football team, skipping junior varsity altogether. There besides you is your high school sweetheart Relena Darlian, the girl that you love and hope to marry some day. Relena is a bright young girl attending what used to be the Boulder Independent School District who is quite bright and possesses a lot of potential should she choose to tap into it. Only a few weeks ago, she turned seventeen years of age, her favorite color is pink, and she enjoys shopping with her best friend Dorothy Catalonia and doting on her ever devoted boyfriend who would be you."

Heero could only gape at the only monologue, unable to comprehend how an individual could know so much about him when he had just only met him a few minutes ago. Not only that, he knew things about _Relena_ as well and she had hardly spoken this entire time.

"How do you…?" Heero's voice cracked.

Romafellor only shrugged his shoulders while still in his seat and said, "I make it my business to know things. It shouldn't be a surprise that I know about you since your parents used to work for me for years. However, I don't know everything and while that can be excused under certain circumstances, you both have knowledge that I don't have and I want it. So let's skip the chitchat and get down to business. I am a very busy man and I have had to readjust my entire schedule to fit this little meeting into it so will you please not waste any more of my time."

Romafellor's soft voice had started just like that, soft but with a brand of quietness to it. However, the more he spoke, the more a certain hard edge appeared into it, one that promised things that would more than likely make both Heero and Relena's stay here a most unpleasant one should they choose not to cooperate.

"What is it you want to know?" Relena finally asked, scared. "What do we know that you don't?"

"That, my dear, we are about to find out," Romafellor replied, his voice completely soft once more. There was even a gentleness in it but all those who knew this man knew that it was false. There wasn't a bone in that small body of his that had any gentleness, or even kindness, unless you counted his close family, in it. Unfortunately for Heero and Relena, they did not know this and were strung into the web this professional was weaving.

"Before I can ask my questions, I will have to tell you a little story so that you can understand precisely what I'm looking for. You see, it has come to my attention about a certain…program that one of my rivals has been investing in. You could say it's a weapons program of sorts, the kind of weapon that will change everything about how wars are fought and violence is instigated. A few years ago, I had been involved in such a project as well, one that turned out to be an utter failure. We were trying to create a new kind of combat suit, one that protected the user from any and all threats while dispensing destruction and harm to those facing it. The project was plagued with so many bugs that I had to shut the whole thing down and call it a failure, something that I do not enjoy doing. A few months ago, I learned of this other project from a reliable source that my competitor, XAI, was involved in a similar weapons program. Upon hearing about this, I thought to myself, why not wait and see what XAI would come up with first and when the time was right, take the project over for Romafellor and enjoy all the benefits that would come from it.

"Xavien, however, is a very paranoid person and has gone to great lengths to hide his work from me. In fact, it was only a few days ago that I learned about the basics of this Project Maxwell, a weapons program designed to take normal everyday people and turn them into superhuman soldiers, the next generation of weapons. Ironically, the basic equations and formulas Project Maxwell is based on were the same ones that I had turned down before, twenty years ago to be precise."

"And what does that have to do with us?" Heero asked.

"It is because of Project Maxwell that your hometown was annihilated," Romafellor answered, expressing no emotions as he saw horror imprinted on the two teens' faces. Soon, though, that horror changed to realization, as if what he had said triggered recognition in them.

_Bingo_.

Psychology was truly a great thing to behold. To be able to predict other people's behaviors was an asset and back when Romafellor was just entering the world of business and had first heard about this new field of science, he had invested quite a bit into it and look at him now, one of the most powerful people in the world. Every word he made, every motion his body undertook, all of it had a purpose, one that was designed and calculated to bring out the maximum amount of emotion from a person and Romafellor himself had always been a good reader of body language.

Whatever the mouth tried to lie about, the body always betrayed. Always.

"Have I struck a nerve?" he asked pleasantly. "Do not be afraid to say anything, speak whatever it is that is on your mind."

That snapped the two out of their spells but it was the more resistant one that spoke up. "Is there anything else?" Heero said.

Not what he was looking for but if there was any word that could describe Romafellor, it was adaptable. He decided to give them more information not because he liked hearing himself talk but he knew that the two wouldn't last very long afterwards. Not that he was planning to have them killed, mind you, it was just that the world was a very hard place and with no support or structure, these children would simply die off like an endangered specie.

Survival of the fittest, what could he say? Children like these two with their typical ideals knew nothing of how hard life really was. Life had shaped him into the very man that he was today and he had adapted to it until he became it. Morality was for those who had the time to consider it but it was nothing more than a social inconvenience that was overlooked and stepped over all the time.

"It depends," he told them. "If you mean how Project Maxwell is able to produce superhuman abilities, I'm afraid to admit that I do not know how it is done. That's where you come in. From what my information tells me, you two were still in your hometown the day it was destroyed. What did you see? How did things progress that resulted in the town's destruction? You have the answers I am searching, children, so please, answer at will."

"Where did you get all that?" Heero demanded. "How do you figure we would be able to answer your questions when we know so little?! You know more about whatever is going on so can't you just guess and leave us alone?!"

"Once you answer my questions," Romafeller said. "Now tell me, and don't lie to me since I know the truth, what did these 'weapons' look like?"

Heero was about to lose his temper again, fed up with everything. Was it too much to ask for a _normal_ life? Was it? Before he could tell Mr. Romafellor just where he could shove it, Relena spoke up first.

"They looked like normal people," she answered, willing to do anything to get out of here. She didn't like this man, didn't like the way he was looking at them as if they weren't even human. They were like bugs in a collection being studied by the collector, in this case, Mr. Roma—whatever his name was!

"'Normal people?'" Romafellor repeated. "Explain."

"Relena!" Heero protested.

"They look like you and me!" Relena exclaimed, shivering as she got lost into her memories. "They held Heero against his will, threatened to hurt us, made Dorothy buy them clothes—"

"So they have intelligence, interesting," Romafellor muttered to himself. Glancing at the girl, he said, "Continue."

"They…they held Heero hostage," the girl continued to recount, "and then the next day, they got into a fight with those other boys, and one of them shot fire from his hands, and—"

"Are you saying there are no uniform abilities?" Romafellor interrupted again.

"Relena, you don't have to do this," Heero said quietly to her.

Relena shook her head at her boyfriend. "No, he can help Heero. He may be creepy but he can help! I know he can! Isn't that right?" The last was spoken to Romafellor to which the elder man nodded solemnly. It wasn't as if he didn't have the heart to tell them the truth, he just didn't see any reason to tell them. It wouldn't have been the first time he lied to someone.

In fact as he continued his interrogation, the girl's words blending into one another, plans began to form in his head. Xavien wasn't going to be the only person to benefit from this; he would make sure that he got his piece from this pie and this time he wouldn't toss it aside.

---

"You really didn't think this one through, did you?" Trowa said conversationally in front of the small campfire.

"Fuck you," Solo growled, arms wrapped around his knees and eyes smoldering.

"I should have stayed back at the church," Dorothy mumbled to herself as she suppressed a shiver.

It was true though, Solo hadn't thought this one through. Leaving the Maxwell church in the middle of the day instead of waiting for the next morning and without any kind of supplies on hand hadn't been the brightest solution but the blond was too determined to find Duo.

Of course, when it came to being single-minded about something, all of the blond's usual habits were thrown out the window. He blamed it on Project Maxwell since it made him invincible and all.

Yeah, just blow over the fact that he has his occasional bouts of denseness…

"Wonder why da Japan guy didn't join along," Solo said aloud, more to just say something than anything. Now that he was in the midst of his memories of day long past, he recalled Wufei refusing to join them and the blond did not recall his reasons why since he hadn't been paying attention at the time.

"Probably to skip out on such a marvelous trip," Trowa answered.

"That was an insult, wasn't it?" Solo said, glaring at the other.

"Your guess is as good as mine," Trowa shrugged as he summoned another log of wood out of the ground and put it into the fire, striving to fight away the chill of the night. "But you know," he continued, "we're going to have to find a way not to freeze to death tonight if we want to stand a chance at finding Duo."

"Smartass son of a bitch," Solo mumbled.

"Did you say something?" Trowa asked serenely.

"Fuck off," was Solo's reply.

"And you speak so well," Trowa replied. "However, that still doesn't solve the fact of our current problem, oh great leader."

"Stop rubbin' it in," Solo muttered. "Fine. Ya want ta see a solution? Well here ya go!"

Without further prompting, he snaked his arm out, grabbed Dorothy, and proceeded to drag her towards him, the blonde fighting every inch of the way until she was pressed up against his body with a blush on his face.

"There," Solo said triumphantly. "Nothin' like a little body heat ta keep ya warm! Wadda ya say ta that, eh?"

Trowa only shook his head and chuckled but made no attempt to comment on it. Taking this as a sign of defeat from the other, Solo smirked victoriously and made no move to shove Dorothy away from him. Dorothy, however, was still blushing but not because of proximity with the blond. Well maybe she was, but for all those girls out there, wouldn't you be doing the same thing if you were being pressed up against a muscular superhuman while shivering in the middle of a desert at night?

Needless to say, she didn't notice that Solo made no attempt to shove her away from him or at least push her away like times previous.


	17. Beauty is only Skin Deep

Author's Note: From this point on, it's just going to keep on going downhill. New players are constantly being added to the game but just who exactly is going to wind up on top? While you're contemplating that, here's another battle for you. While I'm at it, I'd like to give a big thank you out to shinigamiinochi who has so generously donated a number of her OCs into this story. Been holding onto them since Project, about the same time she lent me Yun, actually. Enjoy.

Disclaimer: I do not own Gundam Wing or shinigamiinochi's Michael, Metatron, Seraphiel, Astaroth, and Abaddon.

Warning: language, violence

Beauty is only Skin Deep

Sylvia found herself staring out through one of the main windows in the mansion, the one she was looking through in particular showing a view of the luscious gardens that were the pride of the Noventa family. From this perch, she could see her grandfather casually strolling through the colorful grounds accompanied by that braided boy who was acting just like a little kid even though he looked nothing like one.

While on that topic, his personality also confused the young Noventa heiress. At times he would _be_ just like a kid but other times he would show a more cynical and mature side that usually let loose some sort of insult, one typically aimed at Kisari who had come up to her side just now. The other blonde was taking in the view the window provided and Sylvia took a moment to pause and wonder what her dear friend was thinking about.

Whenever Kisari was insulted, usually by a boy, she would hold a grudge against them and plan some sort of payback scheme of some sort. Such schemes were never put into motion since usually the male insulter would find himself deep in hard times and when he came to her for charity, she would throw their insults right back into their face.

But, as Sylvia contemplated her best friend's typical behavior, she noticed something, a particular sparkle in her eye that usually showed up whenever she was plotting something. It seemed like she was just watching that kid, Duo, wonder about the gardens and ask her grandfather all sorts of questions which he would answer without hesitation.

Curiosity threatening to overwhelm her, she asked, "So what are you planning this time? Castration? Facial mutilation? The usual stuff?"

Kisari blinked, taken out of some stupor that had descended on her and was broken by Sylvia's voice. "No," she finally answered, sounding contemplative. When she made no move to continue, Sylvia decided to prompt her.

"Then what are you thinking about?" she asked.

"He has a sexy body," Kisari replied, speaking as if such a thing was normal for her to say. Sylvia, through personal experience, knew that this wasn't something that Kisari said. The word "sexy" and Kisari didn't go with one another, they just didn't.

"Wh-what?" she said, flabbergasted.

Kisari blinked again then widened her eyes, figuring out just what was freaking her friend out. "Did I say that out loud?" she asked. When Sylvia nodded the affirmative, Kisari swore with a "Shit!"

Her voice cracking, Sylvia asked, "Why did you say that?"

"No reason," Kisari said quickly, a bit too quickly.

Sylvia just leveled a look at her friend, keeping that up until the other girl finally cracked.

"I walked in on him when he was in the bathroom," Kisari muttered. Sylvia just raised an eyebrow, as if asking if that was all. "He was coming out of the shower," she admitted. "He looked surprised to see me too and I could have sworn for a second that his eyes were red…"

"And why were you in that bathroom when you always use mine?" Sylvia asked in a deadpan voice.

When Kisari only blushed and looked away, Sylvia knew. So she was going to try and put one of her usual schemes into action. That had to be one good looking body if it was enough to make Kisari freeze in her tracks. She looked back out of the window and watched the braided boy who dashed to and fro energetically, studying him to see if any of that "sexy body" was evident.

She couldn't tell but that may have been due to the clothes that hung loosely on his body and the fact that he was quite a distance away from the window in which she was looking through. She would admit that he was good-looking in the looks department but other than that, she wasn't about to make any sort of assumptions until she had more to work with.

She was deep enough in her thoughts when she felt two strong arms suddenly wrap around her and under her arms, a strong and firm torso pressing up against her back and hot breath coating her left ear as a voice said, "Surprise…"

"Quatre!" she nearly shrieked as she squirmed her way out of the laughing blond's arms. She glared at the Winner lad until a sudden thought occurred to her. "Hey, what are you doing here?"

"Is it wrong for me to want to come a visit my closest friend?" Quatre asked in an innocent tone even though Sylvia knew for a fact that the boy was anything but.

"It would have been nice if you had called first to say you were going to stop by," she huffed, crossing her arms.

Quatre chuckled. "Stop being such a spoilsport," he teased.

She stamped her foot childishly and exclaimed, "I am not a spoilsport!"

"Don't I know that," Quatre growled as he embraced her again, his hold more sensual than it was friendly.

"Not so fast buster," Sylvia said, pushing him back. "You already had your chance and the train's already left the station."

"Not even for old times' sake?" Quatre mock pouted then turned his attention towards Kisari who had yet to remove her attention from the window and what laid beyond it. "Maybe I can rely on you, dear Kisari. Kisari? Are you listening?"

Kisari was off in her own little fantasy world and Sylvia had a good idea as to what little fantasy might be going through her head…either that or she was too zoned out or something. When failing to get the blonde's attention, a frowning Quatre stepped up to her side and looked to where she was looking, laying eyes on the eldest Noventa and the braided boy that was prancing around him.

"Who's the girl?" Quatre asked, confused, narrowing his eyes to try and get a better look. "She looks very manish; I almost thought for a second she was a guy."

"He _is_ a guy," Sylvia replied, smirking at the look of horror that had crossed the Winner heir's face for a brief second before vanishing in the next.

"I never would've guessed…" the blond said thoughtfully. "I guess they do come in all sizes."

"Don't tell me the playboy bachelor Quatre Winner is considering hitting for the other team," Sylvia teased, delighting in the turnabout.

"One hundred percent hetero," Quatre replied cheerfully. "Doesn't mean I can't look, does it?"

"I think you're in denial," she said.

"Maybe," Quatre laughed, turning back towards her. "But maybe I'm too hung up on you to do anything about it."

This time it was Sylvia's turn to blush. Oh she remembered what it was that he was referring to. Hot lips, molten touches, sensations so powerful that she had trouble breathing, and then the piece de resistance when they were brought together—

No! That was in the past and it was just a fling, a one time thing. Now, Quatre knew his way around a female's anatomy, there was no doubt about that, but it was only physical and she, like every other woman in the country, wanted more than just that. Though it was with regret, she chose to break it off as soon as she could before anything, like wrong ideas, could crop up and make things unbearable. Whether or not Quatre's feelings went deeper, she preferred not to find out, not in this life or the next.

"I'd take that more seriously if I didn't know how hung up you are on yourself," she retorted.

Placing both hands over his head, he mock swooned, "Oh cruel lover of mine! How your words pierce through my flesh and bone and into my heart!"

"Yep, still full of yourself," Sylvia nodded to herself.

"I really hurt you didn't I?" Quatre suddenly asked, all show of playfulness gone from his demeanor. This change in attitude was enough to capture Kisari's attention, said girl managing to pry her eyes away from the window long enough to watch the unfolding drama with interest.

"It's in the past," she sighed, just wanting not to talk about it anymore.

"You don't know how sorry—" Quatre began, a glimpse of his kind nature, his true nature that was usually covered up in playboy bravado, peeking out.

"And as I just said," she interrupted, "it's in the past. Why don't you go say hi to Grandfather? You know how much he loves you."

"Very well then," Quatre said. "I'll see you later then."

"Not if I see you first," she replied, getting a chuckle from the blond.

---

Not even at the church had Duo ever seen so much beauty in one place, and Nathan was being so nice to him! He didn't know how to take this all, not even his darker self knew, so he did all he could to distract himself from it. He asked constant questions and listened to all patient answer Nathan gave him, the old man who felt like Father Maxwell but looked nothing like him always giving him a smile.

He was beginning to fall in love with this place, he didn't know why, and it worried him to no end. He had liked it back at the church too but this place, wherever it was, was just so…so…

"Good day Admiral! Fine weather we're having, yes?"

The bright and perky voice immediately caught his attention and he looked up to see an unfamiliar blond boy walking towards him and Nathan with this happy look on his face. What did he have to be happy about? And who was Admiral? He knew no one by that name.

"Ah, Quatre! What a pleasant surprise," Nathan greeted, walking towards the short haired blond and shaking his outstretched hand heartily. "What brings you to these parts, boy?"

"Just happened to be in the neighborhood and thought I'd stop by," the now-named Quatre answered cheerfully.

As was his nature, Duo was wary, wondering who this boy was and why he had dared to intrude into his small world. However, all potentially hostile thoughts he had vanished as the blond haired, blue eyed Quatre looked over at him. By God…if he hadn't have seen Sister Helen, the very paragon of beauty in his opinion, he would have thought this boy was an angel. He was ethereal looking and had this aura of confidence around him, like he could do anything he wanted and succeed at it. He swallowed involuntarily and shifted uncomfortably under that gaze.

"So who's this little guy and why haven't I seen him around before? Have you been hiding things from me again Admiral?" Quatre asked, looking sternly at Nathan, something that just didn't sit right with the braided boy.

"No, he just arrived here a couple of days ago," Nathan answered, smiling down at Duo and making him blush slightly in embarrassment from all the attention he was receiving. "We were just taking a tour of the gardens, isn't that right Duo?"

"Uh huh," he nodded, shifting his weight from one foot to the other uncomfortable, his inner alarms shrieking inside his head as Quatre approached him and showed him just how much taller he was and how much _older_ he looked now that distance was becoming less of a factor.

Why, he had to be older than Trowa! He was sure of it.

"Duo, that's an unusual name," Quatre commented as he bent down to get a closer look at him.

"At least it's not weird like Cattra!" he retorted, his response automatic.

Instead of being affronted by it, Quatre laughed out loud in amusement. "Quite right," he agreed, "and it's pronounced _Quat-tre_, not Cattra. You got close but no cigar."

"Cigar?" he asked, frowning in confusion.

Quatre seemed to ignore this as he placed a gentle hand on his shoulder. "You're cute, you know that?" he asked, continuing without letting Duo get a word in edgewise. "How old are you? Ten? Eleven?"

Puffing his chest out in pride, he answered, "I'm fifteen!"

Quatre actually blinked in surprised, obviously not expecting that. But by now, Duo was used to such reactions. Why were people always surprised by how old he was? He could feel amusement radiating from his darker side but he ignored it as best as he could.

For a moment, though, he could have sworn he saw a frown on that handsome face of Quatre's but, as quickly as it came, it was gone by the time he blinked to make sure it wasn't an illusion. After that redhead at the circus, you couldn't be sure about what was real and what was not.

"Fifteen, you say," Quatre said. "You don't act like a fifteen year old."

"Solo's seventeen an' he don't act like it either," Duo defended.

"Solo?" Quatre repeated, looking up at Nathan who just shrugged his shoulders as if to say "your guess is as good as mine." Choosing to ignore it, the blond said, "Sorry then. Shouldn't judge a book by its cover, huh?"

"Huh?" Duo blinked and stared at the blond, confused. What did a book have to do with this anyway?

"It's a figure of speech," Quatre said, as if that clarified everything, which it didn't. Removing his hand and standing straight up, he turned towards Nathan. "You know where this little guy came from?"

While bristling at the unintended insult, he ignored whatever it was that Nathan said next, preferring to glare daggers at Quatre instead for the slight at his height. He was still growing, damn it! He was going to be taller than this asshole someday and when he was, he'd show him who the little guy was! Oh yes he would!

"Seems like I offended Duo here," Quatre chuckled, scratching the back of his head boyishly. "Is there someplace we can talk privately, Admiral? There's something I want to speak with you about."

"As long as it doesn't involve politics or business," Nathan jested. "I'll be back in a little bit, Duo," he told the braided boy. "Just stick around here for a little bit unless you want to go back inside."

"'Kay," he said as he slowly distanced himself from Quatre warily. He was going to keep an eye on this guy. For some reason, there was something about him…

---

"Wonder what Quatre has to say to your grandfather?" Kisari mused aloud, watching as Noventa and Quatre headed away from a wandering Duo who didn't seem to have had enough of exploring the garden yet.

"Who cares?" Sylvia shrugged, her eyes focused on Duo.

Noticing this, Kisari smirked.

---

Solo was not a happy camper, no sirree.

After freezing his ass off during the night (and surviving), it would be his luck to find a few boys watching over the three of them, all of them dressed in familiar black uniforms.

"Ya know, it's rude ta watch someone sleep," he said as soon as he was fully awake. "There somethin' you guys ain't tellin' me?"

By his voice alone, he woke up Trowa and Ms. Eyebrows, but because he had a headstart at opening his mouth that morning, the damage had already been done.

It was the one in the center of the new group of five that spoke first. Solo didn't know what it was about this guy, whether it was the fact that he was almost if not as tall as him, long straight red hair that could almost rival his own hair length, or maybe it was the icy blue eyes that seemed to glare at him with self-assurance. Whatever it was, Solo liked him even less as he said, "It's even more rude when you don't come back home like the dog you are, Solo."

Okay, that settled it, he hated this guy's guts. "A dog I might be," he growled, "but at least I ain't a bitch."

The redhead's eyes flashed with anger but a monotone voice cut him off. "There's no need for that Michael," a short, dark skinned boy with short, curly, brown hair and black eyes that held a deadness in them that was just plain chilling to look at. "They are outnumbered three to five and it would be a futile effort for them to fight their way out."

Though not liking being told to stand down, Michael instead sneered back at Solo and the others. "Hear that? Metatron here is offering you a way out of getting pulverized. I'd take it if I were you."

"Hasn't stopped me before," Solo shrugged and he looked back at Trowa and got confirmation that the unibanged young man was ready to rumble at a moment's notice.

"Are you stupid or something?" a tall, pale boy demanded, his long, curly, blond hair giving him the appearance of an angel even though his golden eyes kinda spoiled the effect. Even one knew that all angels had blond hair and blue eyes! This guy overstepped his bounds somewhere or something.

"If he wants to get his ass handed to him, let him Seraphiel," a short boy with long auburn hair and green eyes retorted to the enemy blond.

"Not you're speaking my language Astaroth!" Michael crowed.

"This is absolutely unnecessary," Metatron interrupted.

"Bullshit!" Astaroth replied he extended the fingers of one of his hands, a long, sharp tipped spike emerging from the skin of his palm with a sickening sound of slowly tearing skin accompanying it. Trowa frowned at this sight and did his eyes deceive him? With his eyes narrowed, it looked like this "Astaroth" had skin made of scales.

"I'm not participating," an apathetic voice spoke up, surprising everyone. Solo nearly slapped himself at that. There were five here and he had only really taken notice of four. Had to see the bigger picture here he told himself.

The boy that had spoken was pale, a paleness that rivaled that of the acidic tentacled Yun but unlike Yun, this guy was more of an average height. Short violet hair framed a narrow head and slanted black eyes looked at everything in distaste, as if their owner was above all this. The boy had settled himself on an outcropped rock, leaning back on his arms and crossing his legs, giving the impression that he wasn't going to do anything.

"You go right ahead Abaddon," Michael said. "That just means there's more for us then."

"Perhaps," Abaddon replied, "but someone is going to die here."

It would be a lie if Abaddon didn't get weird looks from everyone because he did and from both from the renegades and the boy's allies.

Picking up from what Abaddone had just said, Michael declared, "You're right, somebody is going to die. Those two lackeys of Solo, that's who!"

Abaddon just continued to look bored. "Two people will die here," he acknowledged.

"You heard the man," Michael said, looking back over at Solo and the others. "Looks like you guys gotta die. Shoulda picked your friends better."

Michael was unable to continue at this point mainly due to the fact that he had a fist imbedded into his face and his body was sent flying away. This fist in question belonged to Solo who said, "'Bout time somebody shut your trap up."

He felt something stab at him and break and when he looked down, he saw Astaroth staring at his broken blade, stunned that it could break so easily. Rolling his eyes, Solo uppercutted the offender in the chest and sent him flying into an outcropping of rocks where he landed with an ominous thunk. Then it was Solo's turn to go flying as he was impacted from the side by something big.

Everything in his head scrambled, as if some shrieking, nails-on-a-chalkboard noise had gotten into his skull and was screwing everything up. When he came to, he picked his head up off the ground just in time to see Metatron close his mouth and lean casually out of the way as Trowa slashed his root sword at him. However, Solo's attention was soon diverted as he heard heavy footstep pounding against the ground, heading straight for him. Turning to look, he saw an enraged Michael charging at him like a bull.

Jumping back onto his feet, he braced himself for impact and caught hold of Michael, their hands and fingers intertwining as they pushed against one another in an attempt to conquer the other. As Solo pushed back, he could see that irritating look on Michael's face and it just seemed to piss him off more for some reason. He couldn't explain it really but he needed to get over it, quick. He was straining against this guy, like the redhead was some other superstrong guy like Sigmund. He could feel a couple muscles begin to cramp but that was when he stopped all resistance and let Michael plow straight towards him.

He spun out of the way, letting go of one of Michael's hands but keeping his hold on the other, letting a surprised Michael go past him. Still holding on to Michael's hand, he pulled the redhead back him and pulled up on his arm, getting him into a lock that Michael tried to break by throwing the elbow of his free arm at him. Unfazed by the attack, he grabbed the wrist of the free arm, twisted down and up, trapping both of Michael's arms behind his back as he stood behind the other, bringing him to his knees.

Solo snorted. "Mobias gave me a harder time than that, asshole. Gonna have ta do better than that."

Michael gave out a loud cry and threw his head back to butt against his head. Momentarily stunned by the unexpected blow, Solo lightened his grip on the other's arms long enough for Michael to be able to pull away. However, Solo got a hold of himself at the last second and tightened his hands, grabbed the ends of Michael's sleeves. Michael, though, was still plowing forth and with a tearing sound, his sleeves ripped off and dangled helplessly in Solo's hand.

"Bastard," Michael swore as he shook his hands and wrists to get feeling back into them, the muscles in his muscular arms wiggling like jello due to the vibrations running up them.

"Like I haven't heard that one before," Solo retorted, discarding the ripped-off sleeves.

"You ought to appreciate it," Michael threw back at him tauntingly, pissing Solo off more, "you won't be called anything else after this, bitch."

Solo clenched his teeth in uncharacteristic anger. There was just something about this guy that made him want to beat the living shit out of him, maybe even tear him a new asshole while he was at it. At this display, Michael seemed to be reveling and was that his imagination or were the muscles in his arms tightening and bulking up somewhat?

With a speed he hadn't demonstrated before, Michael was suddenly up in his face and delivering a haymaker with enough force that Solo actually spat out a bit of blood, something that hadn't happened in years. His toughened body bent over itself as a fist slammed into his gut, just under his diaphragm, and a knee caught him in his chin, causing his head to snap back.

As he stumbled back, he wasn't given a chance to recover as one and then two punches landed on his chest, followed by a right hook on his cheek and a jackhammer right in the middle of his back. Needless to say, he was eating dirt again, a habit he had sworn to break a while ago.

"Ooh, what's wrong?" Michael taunted as he stepped unsportsmanlike onto his back, exactly where he had jackhammered him previously. "Not so tough now are you?"

"Gonna beat the livin' shit out of ya," Solo growled as he slowly lifted his head up to glare furiously at Michael. He blinked as he saw a prominent vein pop out of Michael's right bicep and the guy seemed to have grown a few inches in the past few minutes. What was going on?

"He feeds off your emotion," the voice of Seraphiel spoke from behind, the blond standing casually.

"What da fuck are you talkin' 'bout?" Solo asked plainly, giving the other a look that he thought he was crazy.

"Powers anyone?" Seraphiel said mockingly. "Michael here can increase a person's emotional state, specifically anger and aggression. Not only that, he can feed off of them to grow stronger."

"Why are ya tellin' me this?" Solo growled.

He felt his head yank upwards, soon followed by his head and the rest of his body. Looking straight into the smug eyes of Michael, the redhead replied, "'Cause you're gonna need all the help you can get, pretty boy." With that, Solo found a fist in his face and the sensation of air passing all around him.

And you wondered why he wasn't a happy camper.


	18. The Language of Violence

Author's Note: Once again, I've had ShadowMajin take a look at this. I'm still a bit dissatisfied with it but it'll have to do. So give the guy a hand and enjoy.

On one last note, I would have updated Tuesday but something came up with Fanfiction, as you all no doubt found out about and was unable to do so. Decided to wait until I was sure this problem had been overcome by the site.

Disclaimer: I do not own Gundam Wing.

Warning: language, violence

The Language of Violence

Trowa swiped at the bored-looking Metatron who was only doing the minimal amount of moving to avoid each and every strike Trowa threw at him. The guy had barely left the spot he had first been standing it and for some reason that was pissing him off. He blinked and hesitated; he was pissed off? Now? That hadn't happened before, except at the circus. Shaking his head quickly, he changed a would-be slash into a thrust, aiming straight for Metatron's chest but instead of evading like always, Metatron opened his lips slightly.

A low, high-pitch noise cut through the air and tore Trowa's root sword into shreds, leaving him with only the handle to stare dumbly at. Tossing it away, he summoned another but was stopped by Metatron's deadened voice before he could attack.

"How are you able to do that?" the boy asked, frowning slightly. "There are no records of there ever being a plant wielder so is it a natural ability?"

"Looks like your boss really didn't like me," Trowa smirked.

"How do you mean?" Metatron asked, tilting his head.

"I mean Xavien must have deleted all information about me," Trowa replied. "He doesn't take to being stood up well."

"You might want to watch it," Metatron only said, puzzling the uinbanged youth for a minute before he twisted to a side to narrowly dodge the bladed spike that slashed at him, courtesy of Astaroth who was close enough that he could see the reptilian features of the boy.

"All this talking is boring," the boy said, feral eyes eying Trowa like he was a piece of meat. "Bleed for me."

Trowa raised his bladed root up in time to block a thrust of a spike but it was then cut in half by a slicing blade. Dropping his useless weapon, Trowa jumped back, refraining from using acrobatics this time around and summoned two sharp tipped branches from the ground which he pulled and threw like spears at the other boy. Much to his surprise, the spearing projectiles bounced harmlessly off Astaroth.

Astaroth just chuckled and raised his arms up so that the limbs were folded and his elbows were pointing straight at Trowa. He didn't have much time to dodge as two sharp spikes shot from Astaroth's elbows as if they had come from two cannons.

Trying a different tactic, Trowa grew a vine and used it like a whip, snapping it over to one of the shooting spikes where the vine grabbed hold of it and pulled taunt. Trowa twisted his waist and pulled on the vine, whipping it forth, along with the spike, towards Astaroth who got a slash on his cheek for all his troubles.

"You son of a bitch!" Astaroth roared angrily as he clutched at his bleeding cheek. "How did you do that?!"

Trowa breathed a sigh of relief at that. For a moment, he was worried he was fighting somebody like the indestructible Solo but now he knew he could be harmed. It looked as if only weapons or projectiles that Astaroth made had an effect on him and Trowa wasn't about to not look a gift horse in the mouth.

However, his attention was soon adverted as Metatron intervened, a sonic boom of erupting out of his mouth and straight at the plant wielder. Knowing he wouldn't be able to dodge, he flicked his wrist and sent his pilfered spike straight at the monotoned boy. Even though his vine was torn to shreds, the spike wasn't as it cut though the attack, closing the distance rapidly. Metatron remained standing where he was, tilting his body to the right and evaded the spiked projectile easily. That was all Trowa was able to see as Metatron's attack caught him and sent him flying back, much like how Solo had been earlier.

Sitting up, he saw Astaroth charging at him, the top part of his uniform absent, revealing a scaled, muscled torso that had all sorts of spikes sticking out at all angles.

Oh joy.

---

Leaving the Noventa estate, Quatre looked down at the vanilla folder that he had left in his car as his driver exited from the estate gates. It was a small data form, one that could be typically found at a doctor's office and there was an immense amount of information on it.

Now while he couldn't understand all of what it said, he was able to get the gist of it and even though he was repulsed by some of the things, he could push it aside for now.

Calmly, he took out his cell phone and dialed the number, pleased when his call was answered immediately after the first ring.

"It's good to hear you again, Trieze," he said.

"_Quatre Winner? Well this is an unexpected surprise,_" the amused voice of one Trieze Khushrenada replied. "_What, pray tell, has prompted this call, if I may ask? It's not like you to call me out of the blue just to chat._"

Quatre smiled thinly. It was just like Trieze to cut to the heart of the matter early, not that the Winner heir minded. "Well, I'm reading that little folder you sent me and I felt that I needed to speak with you at once. You see, I have just let the Noventas and I came across something there that was very…intriguing."

"_Are you going to leave me in suspense or are you going to tell me?_"

"Let's just say that I found a match to that little picture you sent with it."

"_A match? How certain of that are you?_"

"Very. In fact, _he_ looks identical to the picture and falls into many of the categories mentioned by this report. I'd have to say they were one and the same."

"_And you say you were just leaving Admiral Noventa's?_"

"I know what you're thinking," Quatre said, "and no, I am not going to do that. Instead, I think observation would be better suited for this until he proves a grave threat."

"_Are you set on this course of action, Quatre? I'm not sure if you should leave him there with Noventa and Sylvia…_"

"They don't know what he is and I'd like to keep it that way," Quatre interrupted. "The less they know, the better. This has nothing to do with them, with _any_ of them."

"_Very well then but if something does happen…_"

"Don't worry, my men will be there long before yours ever arrive. I'm going to have to hang up now, passing through a no signal area, damn it all."

"_I hope you know what you're doing_."

"If there's one thing I do know," Quatre replied, "it's that."

The moment he hung up, his phone began to ring immediately. Checking the caller ID he saw it was Rashid trying to contact him and he knew that whatever Rashid needed to tell him, it would be short and to the point.

"What is it Rashid?" he answered.

"_I request your presence, Master Quatre,_" the deep voice of his personal assistant answered. "_We have come across something that I feel you need to see._"

"I'm on my way, take care till then," he answered, shutting the phone.

Looked like there was going to be a change in plans…

---

Solo snapped open his eyes, wished he didn't for a second, then rolled out of the way right before a booted foot smashed right where his head had been, said foot sinking into the ground slightly. Scrambling to his feet, he glared at Michael as the redhead smirked at him triumphantly.

"Son of a bitch," Solo cursed, "you almost gave me a concussion!"

"That's the point," Michael drawled before lunging at the blond.

"Like hell," Solo muttered under his breath, determined not to back off from this asshole. He ducked under Michael's first punch and landed a devastating blow into the guy's midsection, forcing the air out of his lungs. Solo then proceeded to tackle Michael into the ground, straddling his chest and raining down punch after punch into Michael's face. It was after the sixth punch when Michael caught first one fist then the other, shoving the blond back and off him.

With his ass landing on Michael's legs, Solo kicked his foot forward just in time to hit Michael in the chest just as he was sitting up. This floored him back onto his back, giving Solo the opportunity to push himself up into the air and let gravity take hold of him, allowing him to deliver a piledriver right into Michael's gut. At fist got him on top of his skull and he saw stars for a moment before he was cast away with a great push of strength.

Scrambling once again, Solo was pleased when he heard a groan come from Michael as he got back to his feet. However, he didn't want to chance Michael reclaiming the advantage in this fight, not now anyway, and he charged the redhead, his body bent and shoulder lowered just enough that he slammed it into Michael and carried the asshole several feet before he stopped and let him stumble back. Closing the distance, he clasped both of his hands on Michael's shoulders and headbutted him harshly, pausing for only a second before he gave another one.

This time it was Michael who was stumbling backwards, his hands clutching his aching head, his once blue eyes now a hue of violet-red glaring around his hands at him. Snarling, he rushed the blond, arm cocked and fist balled, swinging away with Solo dodging to his right and then his left as Michael threw another punch.

Solo tried to land another blow on the infuriating redhead but said redhead, amazingly, parried the punch and snaked his hands in to throttle him. Instantly grabbing the redhead's wrists, Solo used all the strength he had in him to pry the large hands off his reddening neck and keep them just inches away from resuming their activity. Taking advantage of a cheap shot, Solo kicked up with his leg right into Michael's crotch.

Instantly, all strength in Michael's body drained out of him and Solo swore that his muscular body shrank as a high pitched squeak escaped the redhead's mouth.

And what retard said cheap shots don't work?

Suddenly, it felt as if he was back on that metal table again, being shocked nearly to death with who knew how many volts of electricity. The sensation lasted less than a second but the blunt stab of pain striking him in his back lasted longer, much longer. Pushing himself off Michael's limp body, he snapped his head around to see Seraphiel sniff at him in distain, flexing his fingers spasmodically.

"Cheap shot," Solo growled at him.

"Speak for yourself," Seraphiel retorted.

"It helps," Solo countered, jumping backwards and jamming his hands finger first into the ground, pulling out a large chunk of rock as he stood back up to his full height. "Eat this!" he shouted as he through the rocky projectile.

Seraphiel's eyes bulged and didn't move as the rock impacted him, burying him into the ground. Solo was just about to claim victory only to have his words turn into ash in his mouth as his rock blew into tiny pieces and Seraphiel stood up from the small crater, not looking any worse for wear.

Hey, what gives?

"Not even a minute and I'm already enjoying this," the suppose-to-be-catatonic-but-not blond said, jerking his head to the side to pop his neck. With a cruel smirk on his lips, he lunged unexpectedly at Solo. Eyes narrowing, Solo fisted a hand and punched at the incoming target only for Seraphiel to duck under it and get in close where he rapidly laid punch after punch into Solo's stomach. Normally, Solo doubted that he would be affected by someone like Seraphiel but man did this guy back some power! Each punch felt like a freight train only smaller and each punch left him paralyzed long enough for the next punch to land.

Stepping back, twirling, Seraphiel performed a roundhouse kick, his foot slamming into Solo's left cheek and toppling the immoveable blond. Solo only had a few seconds of respite before he felt a light weight slam down on him and fast moving fists doing a number on his head, jerking it side to side with the force from each blow. Much to his shame, Solo couldn't find it himself to stop the assault, at least initially.

Mustering the energy, he caught one of Seraphiel's hands and squeezed it with bone crushing might. However, he didn't get the lovely sound of bones breaking but instead got the sight of Seraphiel looking discomforted, his face twisting slightly but no more.

Needless to say, this was really pissing this long-haired blond off.

Due to Seraphiel being on his chest, it took a deal of effort to throw his legs up and nail his knees right into the other blond's shoulder blades. Caught off guard, Seraphiel's eyes bulged as he went toppling forward and ended up with a face full of dirt. Acting quickly, Solo jumped back up to his feet and spun around to lay the other blond into a hurt locker, cracking his knuckles sadistically.

He had to put a temporary hold on his plans though. His ears caught the sound of somebody rushing at him from behind and he twisted his body around in time to catch a bulked-up Michael who had death written in his eyes. Instead of halting Michael's charge, Solo untwisted his body and used the redhead's momentum against him and sent him straight into Seraphiel, whose body was still perpendicular with the ground. Michael tripped over his comrade's body, knocking the blond to the ground, and ended up doing a face-plant into the dirt himself before his body continued moving, flipping him onto his back harshly.

Stepping back up towards Seraphiel's recovering body, which didn't show so much as a bruise, much to Solo's ire, the blond unkindly grabbed his opponent by the front of his uniform and pulled him up, holding him up at arm's length. Without further ado, Solo proceeded to give Seraphiel a similar treatment, launching punch after relentless punch, seeking to at least break his noise or something and when that didn't happen, grabbed him by the head and slammed him face first back into the ground, letting go of his uniform first.

Though seemingly comatose, Solo knew damn well the blond was still alive and he wanted nothing more than to crack his seemingly invulnerable skull open. Looking up, he saw Michael was getting back up to his feet and Solo leapt at him, his hand grabbed the redhead by the back of his head and shoving it forward, back down into the ground.

Unlike Sersphiel's body that seemed immune to everything (now why did that sound familiar?), Michael's body twitched spasmodically before falling still, unconsciousness finally claiming his mind. Solo remained where he was, still gripping Michael by the back of his head as if expecting foul play but when nothing occurred, he slowly got back to his feet and stepped off Michael's prone body. Waiting a minute, he nodded to himself, affirming that this asshole was out of the game. Now to take care of the other one…

---

Trowa was quick to react as he summoned a ramrod-straight root out of the ground, this one built specifically for durability more than anything. Grabbing it, he thrusted it right in front of him, catching Astaroth at the last minute. Gripping the pole-like root, he pulled it towards him, keeping an end on the ground and lifting Astaroth up into the air with the other, using the scaly one's own momentum to throw him.

A commotion before him caused him to return his attention back towards Metatron who had released another of his sonic voice blasts, the blast ripping through the earth, creating a trough in its wake. Not wanting to deal with another of this type of attack, Trowa covered himself with small, vein-like roots and burrowed underground, missing the blast just in time and only reemerging in the spot he first burrowed in after the earth informed him that it was safe.

Metatron was blinking owlishly at him, as if unable to comprehend what he had done but telling by his lack of action, Trowa suspected that Astaroth was about to make another attempt at his life.

He was dead-on on his assumption, rolling out of the way as a spike covered fist slammed into the ground that he had been previously sitting on. Astaroth had the look of a feral animal, one could tell by looking into his eyes and by hearing the animalistic snarl that came from his mouth as he pulled his grounded fist back and threw the other at the unibanged young man. Trowa rolled out of the way easily and jumped back onto his feet, summoning another vine whip that he snapped out to wrap around the scaly one's neck.

He had a tight grip him but Astaroth growled and grew spikes out of his neck, retracting them as pieces of shredded vine fell to the ground. Narrowing his eyes, Trowa jumped into the air acrobatically, twisting and flipping as he strengthened his vine whip before shooting it down at Astaroth, hardening the whip as it whipped out and struck his opponent in the middle of his forehead.

The scaly one froze in his place, his eyes crossed as he stared at the point where the hardened vine touched his forehead. Snarling, he slashed the vine and shredded it despite its toughness. Trowa found gravity reasserting itself on him as he fell back down to the ground but he let himself fall, nimbly landing on his feet.

"Out of tricks yet?" Astaroth hissed, approaching him warily.

Well, to tell the truth, he was. He could only be thankful that Metatron wasn't attacking him at the same time; now that would have been the killer. Fortunately, that wasn't the case and all he needed to worry about currently was dealing with Astaroth who was slowly but surely getting the advantage in this fight.

Acting quickly, he grew a sharp tipped root and threw it at Astaroth like a spear, completely unsurprised when the other batted it away with ease. However, he was already acting as he grew two vine whips and cracked them at the scaly boy skillfully. Astaroth blinked in surprised as the whips stopped inches from him and snapped the air, the sound scaring him for a second. Growling, he grabbed at them when they return but instead of using a scaring tactic, the whips wrapped themselves around two spikes grew from his shoulders.

Trowa was surprised by how easily it was to pull said spikes out of Astaroth's body but he was quick to take advantage of it as he whipped them back at the scaly boy, causing some damage as the spikes cut through the hard skin.

Stunned that he fell for the same trick twice, Astaroth grew two new spikes from his wrists and pulled them out with the opposing hands. He slashed at Trowa's pilfered spikes and succeeded in breaking the first one Trowa slashed at him with. But Trowa was a quick learner and he held the other spike back as he fought with the spikeless vine whip, trying to keep Astaroth from coming into close quarters. It was needless to say that Astaroth shredded the spikeless vine with ease; all he had to do was shift his body sharply, the spikes on his body doing all the work.

Gritting his teeth, knowing he had to use his other stolen spike earlier than he wanted to, whipped his unshredded whip at Astaroth. The whip held tightly to the stolen spike still wrapped in its grip, even as the spike itself cut through Astaroth's skin and impaled the bone of his shoulder.

Crying out loud in pain, Astaroth tore the spike out of his shoulder, pulling Trowa's whip out of his hand in the process, and crushed it in his bare hands. Glaring at Trowa, Astaroth hissed, "Out of ideas yet? Good."

Truth be told, Trowa still had a trump card to use but he hadn't wanted to use it now, especially since he still had one other opponent to take care of who definitely wouldn't fall for the same trick twice.

At the moment, it was all he had to use.

Better make it count then.


	19. Who's the Psycho Now?

Author's Note: Sorry about not updating yesterday; I completely forgot about it since I've been a bit busy recently. Still, a late chapter is better than no chapter, eh? Enjoy.

Disclaimer: I do not own Gundam Wing.

Warning: language, violence, death

Who's the Psycho Now?

Being an ex-circus performer did have its quirks. Trowa nimbly dodged as the spiked Astaroth slashed at him for the thousandth time with a long, cruelly shaped spike, the spike cutting into the earth with ease and pulled out of it effortlessly. Astaroth wasn't tiring, not at all, but Trowa wasn't either so it looked like he could keep this up indefinitely if he wanted to. But that wasn't what he wanted; no it was far from that.

He was waiting for a pause in Astaroth's relentless assault so that he could put his trump card to use. You see, it had been a while ago that he had grown a specific flower and had hidden it up his sleeve, waiting for the right moment to use its unique ability. He only had one shot at doing this right and he needed to make it count since he doubt he would be able to get away with it twice.

"Why won't you stand still?" Astaroth snarled, giving Trowa the pause that he had been looking for.

"Because I don't feel like getting cut?" Trowa replied, raising an eyebrow.

"You'll be lucky that's all you get when I'm through with you," Astaroth growled, lunging at Trowa who remained standing where he was. "Decided to take it like a man, huh?" Astaroth smirked as he closed the distance between them.

"If it makes you sleep better," Trowa shrugged in nonchalance.

Not bothering to reply, Astaroth slashed at him, Trowa leaning backwards to avoid it but not taking a step back to get out of the way. Wrapping an arm around the offending appendage, he pulled a surprised Astaroth up close to him and whispered, "Sweet dreams," in his ear. With that, he sprang loose the flower he had kept up his sleeve, squeezing it and releasing the sleeping gas deeply imbedded into it right into Astaroth's face, the scaly boy getting a deep breath of it.

Trowa pushed back and leapt away as Astaroth slashed at him, coughing from his unexpected inhalation. Like Solo before him, Astaroth fell victim to the gas' effects and fell at Trowa's feet, sleeping like a little baby, that is if a baby had scales and spikes sticking out of his body like a porcupine.

Hearing someone clap, he looked up towards the expressionless Metatron. "Ingenious," the boy acknowledged. "I didn't think you were capable of such ingenuity."

"You never know what tricks I have up my sleeve," Trowa replied, stepping over Astaroth's body, sure that he could take care of the other later, especially since he had the feeling that Metatron wouldn't allow him to kill the sleeping boy just yet.

"Very true," Metatron said before shooting another blast from his mouth, knocking the uinbanged young man back a ways.

Getting his bearings, Trowa looked up at the other boy and said wryly, "I guess it would be too much to hope for something easy, neh?"

"You guess correctly," Metatron confirmed and opened his mouth wide open again to launch another blast.

---

Seraphiel slowly picked his head up just in time to see Solo brutally shove Michael's head into the ground and the other boy wasn't moving, not one bit. Wobbly, he got back onto his feet, the experience of feeling invincible leaving him at a fast rate.

Oh no. Looks like he needed a recharge…

He snuck up behind the other blond just as the other got back up to his feet and nodded, still looking down at Michael's prone body. With a careful hand, Seraphiel reached out and laid a hand on Solo's neck…

…and felt the surge of power flood his entire being. He felt powerful again, no, invincible! It was a more than heady feeling and it just made him love his own power even more.

The power to leech off of and copy other's abilities was greatest thing in the world.

Even Solo's fist in his face couldn't bring him back down from this high…oh wait, maybe it could, what with the bouncing on the ground as he came into contact with it. A human body just wasn't made for this kind of thing! Couldn't Solo get that into his tiny brain already?

Getting back up, he smirked at the infuriated blond. "Is that all you got, Solo?" he taunted.

"I'm gonna tear you apart," Solo growled menacingly.

"If you coulda, you woulda," he taunted back as he slammed his hands into the earth and pulled up a chunk of the landscape. He smirked at Solo's bulging eyes and threw his piece of the earth, laughing as the massive projectile flew through the air only to stop his laughter as Solo shattered it apart with a single punch.

"This world ain't big enough for two of us," Solo uttered. "I wonder if your head can pop off. Maybe we can see?"

Seraphiel had never felt so much fear in his body. He didn't want to find out the answer to the question that Solo was asking as much as the other blond did. For the first time, he began to consider that maybe he should have teamed up with Metatron instead of Michael…

He dodged an expected but surprisingly swift punch and avoided the hands that maneuvered to try to get a hold of his head. He had no intention of seeing if his head could be "popped off" as Solo desperately wanted to find out as he made another attempt, almost succeeding in getting the other blond into a headlock that he managed to squirm out of.

"You're crazy!" he cried out as he stumbled away from the other blond.

"Never said I was sane," Solo shrugged.

Without further ado, he charged at Seraphiel, grinning like some kind of maniac. Seraphiel, his confidence level severely damaged, reacted quickly, not wanting to become another casualty of all this. He still had Solo abilities to use at his beck and call and he put them to use as he slammed his hands onto Solo's shoulders and let himself fall backwards, allowing him to throw Solo above him and away.

Quickly, he rolled to his feet and ran towards the laid out blond, jumping up into the air, his body twisting and turning in a similar fashion of a certain unibanged young man, and landed roughly onto Solo's chest. He may not have had the natural ability to control the massive physical strength that Solo possessed but he did have a natural speed that Solo didn't. He landed punch after punch onto Solo, not missing a single spot and pouring as much strength as he could into the blows. It was his life that was at stake here and he didn't want to lose it so soon.

However, he hadn't counted on Solo recovering quickly, at least quickly under the current circumstances, and caught his fist, gripping it tightly as he rotated his hand, trying to snap Seraphiel's wrist. Luckily, he still had Solo's invulnerability protecting him so his bones didn't break but his discomfort was palpable. Gritting his teeth, he slammed down a foot into Solo's groin but the blond didn't even flinch.

What kind of monster was this guy?

A large hand grabbed his shoulder roughly and he was forced forward as Solo's thick skull headbutted him. He may have blacked out at that point, he wasn't sure but the next thing he knew, Solo's was on top of him and his fist was incoming. He managed to jerk his head out of the way in time so that Solo's fist broke into the ground and not his head. Grabbing the front of Solo's shirt and shoved Solo back and pulled him to a side, rolling them over so that he was the one that was on top.

A bit provocative, don't ya think?

There was no innuendo to Seraphiel's fists, though, as they dealt blow after blow to Solo's unbruising face. It was frustrating, really, how many times he hit Solo only to have nothing to show for it, not even a scratch or a split hair! He felt all the air rush out of him all of a sudden and soon became of aware of both of Solo's fists in his sides. Like a pincer, Solo increased the pressure he was causing on Seraphiel's torso, his fists digging in deeper and deeper.

And then Seraphiel began to feel the effects of his copied powers wearing off. Oh no, crap! He had to get out of there, quickly! Grabbing one of Solo's hands, he zapped the other and broke loose. He hadn't meant to get anymore of Solo's powers and he didn't care at this point. The guy was just too homicidal and whenever he copied his power, it made him more terrified for some reason.

And he wasn't going to stick around to find out what Solo was truly capable of.

---

Somebody was going to die.

It wasn't a statement that was arrogant or a cheap attempt at frightening others.

It was undeniable fact and when one possessed the abilities that Abaddon did, it was something that had to be taken at face value.

He could see death everywhere, in every person, animal, even things that had no recognizable life force that moving, breathing creatures did. It was what he took into account every time he made a decision and when he had looked at Solo and his ragtag group, he had seen how his taking part in the upcoming fight would matter. Some would say it was looking into the future but Abaddon would deny such a claim. Everyone had a destiny, whether it was to die here or die somewhere else. He already knew that one of his own was going to die, it was unavoidable but he had also seen how one of _Solo's_ group was going to die as well.

He knew how, he knew when, and he knew that he wasn't going to be dealing any fatal blows so why bother with wasting his time and talents in a grudge fight like this?

His eyes scanned over the battlefield, lazily eyeing an unconscious Michael and a sleeping Astaroth. He spotted a fleeing Seraphiel running away from Solo himself and then turned his attention back to where Metatron was, his compatriot wielding the advantage in this fight as the strange plant wielder did his best to conquer him. Abaddon only shook his head, already knowing the outcome of this fight.

---

By now, Trowa had learned just how menacing a person who could use their voice as a weapon was. He couldn't even _see_ the attacks, even though the air around each attack wavered. They were just so quick for something so large.

Not only that, Metatron had taken up whistling only just recently. Sounds odd, right? Not so much when each whistle was a small, sharp projectile that sped through the air at incredible speeds and had cut him up pretty good by now. He knew that the other boy wasn't the sadistic type; it was only his impressive flexibility and skills that were saving him from being killed.

And that damn boy was still standing in the same spot!

He wasn't much of a talker either, a bit ironic perhaps since his weapon was his voice, so that made distracting nearly impossible. What could he do to win this? The only alternative was to die and he wasn't quite ready for that kind of experience yet.

He grimaced as another whistle cut through his shoulder and he grabbed the affected area tightly, the wound throbbing. "Think you can let up some?" he called out to the other boy.

In response, he got hit with one of Metatron's more normal blasts that sent him flying back and landing on the ground harshly. This was only made worse because of all the cuts on his body. If he didn't do something soon, he feared he would lose consciousness due to blood loss.

But that was just it; he had nothing else up his sleeve that he could throw at Metatron without the other countering.

And then like a godsend, Metatron's attention was diverted as a rock caught him in the side of his face, causing his head to tilt to a side. His cheek bruising from the hit, Metatron slowly turned his head, the rest of his body not moving with said appendage, to face Solo, the blond standing nearby.

"For a silent guy, ya sure can't hear good," Solo smirked.

Metatron simply blinked and then released a whistle. The right side of Solo's body jolted back but there was no harm done. A wrinkle appeared on Metatron's brow, the closest Trowa had ever since to a frown on the boy, before he opened his mouth wide and blasted the blond. Solo braced himself for impact and dug his feet into the ground so that when the blast hit him, he did not go flying back. Instead, he was pushed back, his feet digging shallow trenches into the ground, the blond stopping a few yards away none the worse for wear.

"That it?" Solo laughed. "I barely felt that one!"

Trowa narrowed his eyes and could see that the blond was bluffing from the way his legs were trembling. That last attack had taken more out of Solo than the blond cared to admit. Then again, he was probably trying to knock Metatron off his high horse. It was a nice idea except for the fact that Metatron seemed to not be affected by even the most obscene things, be they visual or audible.

"I hardly doubt that," Metatron said, calling Solo on his bluff. Trowa winced in sympathy for the blond, knowing that his plan had backfired. Still, he had bought him some time…

Slamming his hand onto the ground, Trowa caught the other's attention with a shout, "How about this?"

Sharp tipped roots erupted from the ground just in front of the boy and impaled him. Metatron was held suspended in the air, a look of wonder on his face as he tried to comprehend what had just happened to him. His head lolled to a side, his eyes darkening as all life fled from them.

Sighing, Trowa said, "And that's all she wrote," before collapsing into a heap.

---

From his hiding spot in a small outcropping of rocks, Seraphiel saw his comrade die and he jerked back into his cover. No way, that hadn't just happened! Crap, they had really underestimated these guys.

Even though he knew he was pulling a Jason and letting his partners take the raw end of this deal, namely losing their lives, he would learn from this and grow stronger from it. He was Seraphiel, after all, the master of adaptation, the leech…er…he'd come up with something later when he wasn't scared out of his mind for the moment.

"Those idiots have no idea what they're getting themselves into," he muttered menacingly to himself, thinking of all the tortures he would inflict on him.

"They sure don't," a hearty voice said quietly beside him.

Seraphiel found himself nodded in agreement before he stopped, realizing that he wasn't as alone as he thought. Slowly turning his head around, he saw the person who was to become his killer; the same person who grabbed him by his throat and caused the blackness that swallowed him up as his lifeforce was stolen from him and he became dust.

---

Abaddon had been unmoved by Metatron's demise. He had known that the human robot would not have survived this encounter and he had foreseen the roots stabbing into him. It was no skin off his bones; Metatron had a strong power, there was no doubt about it, but he was too confident in his ability, never thinking that anyone would be able to get in close with him to actually hit him.

Suddenly, his head snapped to a side and his eyes narrowed. Someone else had just died, he could feel it, but it was not one that was suppose to be. It was impossible, unexplainable how it was that _Seraphiel_ had just been terminated. He wasn't even suppose to die here…

Things had changed and it would be best to make a strategic retreat. If Seraphiel could be killed when he shouldn't have been, then the other remaining two could be put out of commission. He was more than sure that the superiors wouldn't disapprove of such a course of action.

Getting up from his seat, he dusted himself and began making tracks towards Michael's body, unhurried in his approach. He paused just as he reached his comrade, turning his head slightly so he could observe Solo's approach. He studied the blond, searching for whether or not his death was approaching and didn't find it. Eh, didn't matter to him but if he was going to try and start something…

---

To tell the truth, Solo had forgotten about the guy with the violet hair who was making his way to where Michael was. Having actually felt some pain in this fight, Solo was not in his prime form, not after fighting Michael, Seraphiel, and Metatron back to back. But he was stubborn and wasn't going to just going to let this guy off the hook. Didn't want to risk another Jason any time soon…

Abaddon heard his approach and watched him close the distance between them, not looking concerned about the threatening blond. In fact, Solo was a bit put off at the intensity the other boy was looking at him, an intensity that vanished as if it hadn't existed and the boy turned his back on him uncaringly.

Now, he didn't know if this was a side effect from Michael but he was pissed off all of a sudden. Who the hell did this guy think he was that he could ignore him, Solo of all people!

He was about to verbalize his thoughts when Abaddon spoke before he could. "Let's call this a day and pick it up some other time. There's nothing that can be accomplished here and it would only be a waste of time if we did fight."

Solo frowned, his anger lessening but not entirely going away either. "How do I know ya won't stab me in the back?" he demanded.

"No point," Abaddon shrugged as he began dragging an unconscious Michael.

"Ya know I can't take that chance," Solo growled. "So either ya can put up your dukes and fight or let me pound your brains out right here, right now."

Abaddon stopped doing what he was doing, frowning intently. Shrugging his shoulders, he said apathetically, "If you won't take me at my word, I guess I'll have to give you some motivation, eh?"

Solo paused as he saw a purple aura surround Abaddon, the aura sinking into the ground around the boy. The blond couldn't lie and say that he wasn't curious but he was losing patience and decided that the boy had chosen the latter of his choices.

A hand suddenly burst from the ground, one that had a decayed look about it and an awful smell to boot. However, that hand was connected to a tattered arm that was attached to a body that definitely looked like it had seen better days. It didn't take long to realize he was seeing a zombie, the undead creature moaning and lunging at the blond, a taste for human flesh consuming its mind.

Solo was quick to act, easily slapping the zombie aside with the smallest amount of effort on his part. But the smirk that was growing on his face disappeared as he saw more and more zombies emerging from the soil of the ground and not all of them were humans…

"Death is everywhere," Abaddon intoned, his eyes the same purple color as the aura that surrounded him. "We are nothing but puppets in the cruel game that is existence. It doesn't matter how much we struggle, the end result is the same. You may be powerful now but the desert hides many corpses; how long do you think you can fight before you fall and become just another statistic?"

Solo was beyond creeped out at this point, busy shattering the lumbering zombies as they swarmed towards him. A punch here decapitated a zombie, another punch there caused one's chest cavity to cave in and shatter. He swung his arms wildly, the slightest touch of his limbs knocking zombies away. Just as he was thinking he was making headway, he noticed a zombie pull itself back together and come back for more. He then saw, much to his horror, that all those he had believed he had K.O. were picking themselves back up and joining up with the massing ranks that were beginning to become a bit overwhelming, even for him.

Perhaps he really should have taken that guy up on his offer…

Solo leapt from the ever-growing throng of zombies and ran away towards his companions, hoping against hope that the zombies wouldn't be following after him. He reached the unconscious Trowa in no time who was being picked up by an unaware Dorothy who looked surprised to see him running in their direction.

"No time!" he interrupted her just as she opened her mouth to speak. He wrapped an arm around her waist tightly and the other around Trowa's and threw them both up onto his shoulders before running for dear life.

Getting a good look behind, Dorothy saw all sorts of dead creatures emerging from the soil behind them and for once decided not to say anything and hang on.


	20. Fruits of Project Maxwell

Author's Note: Next couple chapters are gonna get a bit dark, if this one doesn't count already. We're reaching a crossroads and it's gonna be epic, I promise you that much. Warning, due to the content in future chapters and the fact that I think they become a bit much, I'll be upping the rating to M so if you're used to seeing this in T, that will be changing real soon. Enjoy.

Disclaimer: I do not own Gundam Wing.

Warning: language, sexual overtones

Fruits of Project Maxwell

Relena was no fool, no matter air headed she might act at times.

She and Heero were prisoners, prisoners of one of the most powerful men on the planet and there was nothing they or anyone else could do about it. The board room in which they had been interrogated in was their physical prison and it didn't help that they had a spectacular view of Los Angeles just outside the floor-to-ceiling windows. They were too high up in the building to reasonable try to climb down to the street below and the only doors into the board room were guarded by Romafellor's heavily armed security guards who had one too many weapons on their persons in her opinion.

She could remember clearly when that horrible man had left and Heero had demanded they be let go.

"_Don't think of yourselves as being kept against your wills but as forced guests."_

Forced guests her ass! He was just trying to make it sound fancy, that's what! But it didn't do anything to change the situation, now did it?

Heero was pissed and he was busy glaring at the doors to their prison, ignoring her altogether much to her woe. She needed comfort in this time of despair and Heero was just…just…ignoring her! If she had the energy, she would slap him silly for behaving as such. No matter how long he looked at those doors, it wasn't going to do anything to help them…sigh…

She wanted to go home, she wanted to see her parents again, her old friends who used to tease her about being so obsessed with her boyfriend. She wished she could just wake up from this never-ending nightmare back in her room, cuddling with one of the multitudes of stuffed animals that belonged to her. It seemed like a lifetime had passed her by; that her old life belonged to someone else and not her, this tired and wasted shell that she had become…

So much destruction, so much death…and all so that one man could do what, claim supremacy over his two rivals? And if that wasn't all, one of those said rivals was going to try and make a power play of his own, taking advantage of all the conspiracies going on while he was at it.

And these were the people who, in reality, ruled the world.

May God have mercy on them all…

---

"Xavien! Open up this damn door! NOW! I know you're in there!"

"Can't a man make himself presentable in peace anymore?" Xavien muttered to himself as he fixed his beloved brown trench coat, bouncing his shoulders to give himself more of the coat to work with and fixing the collar. He pointedly ignored the ruckus Katsaris was making by banging on the door to his chambers as he added a touch up here and there before nodding his approval and strolling to the exit.

As the metal door opened with a barely audible hiss, the C.E.O. of XAI found himself greeted by the sight of an irate general, the larger man glaring down at him with his dark colored beret on top of his balding head.

Raising an eyebrow, Xavien said, "Feeling self-conscious?"

The jab was received and Katsaris narrowed his eyes but he refrained from answering.

"I don't see why you're so concerned about your appearance," Xavien continued, shrugging his shoulders. "We're just going to be talking with Septum via webcam so you shouldn't be too uptight."

"Decorum may not matter to you," Katsaris growled through gritted teeth, "but some of us around here happen to know when formality is a virtue."

"Ooh, that stings," Xavien mocked, rolling his eyes. "Come along then, General. I have a feeling that you wish not to be in my informal and vice-laden presence any longer than necessary. I assure you, the feeling is mutual."

"Good to know we agree on that," Katsaris snarked, smirking as he got an irritated glance from the businessman.

It was truly fortunate that Xavien had forgotten to take his gun with him and left it in his room; his trigger finger was itchy and he doubted that he would have restrained himself from shooting this infuriating man.

Entering into his office, Xavien took his seat behind his desk, getting comfortable as Katsaris chose to take his place beside the desk, standing at ease instead of sitting. With a deft hand and a few taps on a keyboard, the image of General Septum flashed onto a screen on the opposing wall across from them, the dark haired man scowling at Xavien.

"It's good to see you again, General," Xavien greeted, setting his elbows on his desk and pressing his hands together, fingers intertwining. "I trust we find you in good health."

"Cut the crap Xavien," Septum nearly snarled. "This isn't a social call and you know it."

"To the point as usual," Xavien sighed melodramatically.

"I don't have time for your games Xavien," Septum growled. "Right now we have a reprieve; Noventa's taken one of his retreats so we have some space to work in until he gets back."

"Well that's good," Xavien commented.

"It does now," Septum grumbled, "but he wants me to give up all I have on Project Maxwell and he has his little shadow, Khushrenada, poking around."

"You need not worry about the Colonel," Xavien said, waving the matter away. "He is of little consequence. Especially now that I have some news that you have been waiting for for ten years. Two weapons have been completed and are ready to be utilized at will."

Septum's eyes widened as he stared at the man. "Are you telling me…?" he uttered, still voicing some of his disbelief.

"I am," Xavien confirmed, a wicked smile on his face. "Allow me to introduce you to #13607 and #13892, the first completed, non-malfunctioning weapons to be created under Project Maxwell."

As he spoke, a door hidden in the darkness behind him slid open and admitted the two weapons that he had mentioned. Both of the boys were dressed in the same form-fitting, black uniforms that Xavien seemed to prefer on all of his weapons when they weren't undergoing sessions. However, that was the only similarities the two had as they stopped right behind Xavien, standing at attention with their arms behind their backs.

The first boy was the shorter of the two, a thin lad who looked like he was trying to be an adult even though his face looked childish since he hadn't quite grown out of his baby fat yet. His black hair was cut short yet stood up to give the impression that his head was elongated. His hazel eyes stared blankly out into space, as if he was completely unaware of his surroundings.

The other boy was taller by at least two feet, if not three, over the other boy and was lean and muscular, an obvious sign of strength. He was quite a handsome specimen, his hair a midnight blue, bleached that way as a result of the experiments performed on him, and his eyes continued on that scheme, a dark blue so dark that they could be mistaken for black.

Xavien paid them no mind, preferring instead to keep his attention solely on Septum. "I'll send you the details on them later but as of right now, they will be shipped over to you in Washington to be showboated in front of all your colleagues should you choose to do so."

"What about Noventa?" Septum said gruffly, returning back to his primary concern. "When he finds out about this—"

"Do not worry about that," Xavien interrupted. "Since this seems to be of great concern to you, I'll handle Noventa. I already have some plans drawn up to deal with him and on that note, I'd like to introduce you to #12239."

As he spoke, another boy emerged from the still open doorway and at the sight of him, Septum frowned. "Isn't that—"

"Looks can be deceiving, General," Xavien cut in again, much to Sertum's ire. "Go on, show him what you can do," he said, speaking to the newly arrived weapon.

Septum's eyes widened again as he watched. "This is unbelievable," he gasped.

"But you have to admit, it's not quite shabby either," Xavien said. "Imagine this if you would: you come before your colleagues and show them the fruits of Project Maxwell. Unsure, they turn to the one man they blindly put their trust in. That man, a man that you have been at odds with for _years_, stands up and gives you his full approval. Not only that, he will retire and give to you his position of authority, a position of power that has always rightfully been yours."

Entranced, Septum nodded. However, he still had some doubts and he all too readily revealed them to his partner in crime. "But what if that doesn't happen?" he demanded. "What if they all decide not to support his decision and turn on both of us? Then what?"

Smirking, Xavien replied, "Then it's time to clean house."

It took a second for Septum to get what Xavien was implying but when he did, an unholy light gleamed from his eyes. Deciding to go for the kill, Xavien added, referring to the first two weapons to arrive, "These two in particular are specifically trained for assassinations. For anyone that decides to say 'nay,' well, let's say they'll be given a fatal reason why they gave the wrong answer."

"You're a genius, Xavien!" Septum crowed as he roared with laughter.

"This is only the tip of the iceberg, General," Xavien continued. "Before this night is out, Noventa will cease to be a thorn in our sides and become a very reliable tool. I will see to that _personally_."

"I see what you mean but just how are you going to accomplish that?" Septum inquired, his eyes narrowed, looking at a sight just beyond Xavien.

"Let me worry about that," Xavien replied. "If you want something done right, you gotta do it yourself and I am not going to take any chances that this could go wrong. Noventa alive will do us no good and if I have to be the one to pull the trigger, so be it."

Septum nodded solemnly. "You better know what you're doing, Janus. If not, every single one of us will be compromised."

"Like you, I have a stake in all this and I refuse to allow anything to ruin this," Xavien stated. "Since we're all in this together, I might as well do my part to keep this ship afloat."

"Interesting choice of words," Septum said. "Send out those two weapons as soon as possible. I'll send some personnel to assist you in your black op should you need them."

"Your assistance is most welcome," Xavien acknowledged. "Now if you'll excuse me, there's a lot of work for me to do and so little time to do it in. Tomorrow is going to be a big day for all of us."

---

"You're quiet," Xavien remarked as he strolled down one of the many hallways in the underground research facility.

"I thought you'd prefer if I just stand around and look pretty," Katsaris groused.

"Well that's not fun," Xavien replied with a slight pout. "I was just beginning to get use to your charming wit too."

"You and Septum are planning to assassinate Admiral Noventa. Should I be chatty?" Katsaris retorted.

"I take it you're not fully pleased by our course of action," Xavien remarked, turning at a corner, Katsaris right on his heels.

"I'm not a fan of Noventa," Katsaris admitted, "but I don't like all this sneaking around. It leaves a bad taste in my mouth."

"You'd rather we take the direct approach?" Xavien asked. "If we had done that, we wouldn't be talking with one another right now. There are times when you take your opponents head-on and then there are times when you sneak around them and stab them in the back."

"And you would know all about that, wouldn't you," Katsaris stated snarkily.

"Blame Winner and Romafellor," Xavien replied. "They're the ones that set up the rules of the game; I'm just abiding by them."

"Whatever," Katsaris grumbled. "I'll leave you to your little game for now."

"Retiring early?" Xavien said, eyes wide. "I never thought I'd see the day…"

"There's nothing I can do right now," Katsaris shrugged. "All this sneaking around makes me sick. I'll leave all that shit to you."

Shrugging, Xavien said, "If that's your choice, so be it."

Xavien was slightly surprised when the general abandoned his side, willingly, but the businessman took the opportunity for what it was and continued on his way, making a pit stop in one of the labs where a subject was currently being prepped for a session.

Gazing dispassionately through the glass as the giant behemoth that was #14376, a.k.a. Sigmund, he eyed the battered body, not surprised to see the weapon still breathing. The regenerative capabilities that the weapon had were quite an asset; it would have been dead long ago without them.

But it still needed to be…modified, improved even. So a few more sessions wouldn't hurt it, not at all. He watched as little IV needles were inserted into any available veins and tiny swathes of gel were spread on other key locations of the large body where the probes would be attached. He wasn't going to do anything like force his opinion into this; the labrats that he had hired to do such things knew what they were doing. However, before he turned to leave, he did leave instructions to make this an extended session.

The weapon could handle such a thing and he would get results the next time it was sent out, damn it.

---

There was a feeling of anticipation in the air, the kind that always preceded a thunderstorm and Sylvia could feel it in every nerve of her body.

It also helped that there was the dull sound of booming thunder in the distance, giving credence to this anticipation.

But it was preventing the Noventa girl from getting the sleep that she so deserved after a day of doing whatever it is that rich teenage girls do. Glancing at the digital alarm clock on her nightstand, she groaned to herself as it was a quarter till midnight. Just great; and she had gone to bed early too…

She was aware of the creak her door made as it was opened slowly but she already knew who it was that was sneaking into her room. The only person that did that was Kisari and she had grown used to it over the years.

Like all the times before, tonight was no exception.

Her best friend was still approaching her bed when the phone came to life, startling them both with its shrill ringing. Since attempting to feign sleep was out of the question now, Sylvia groaned as she rolled over onto her stomach and checked the caller ID, groaning again when she didn't recognize the number. It must be a call for her grandfather; she'd let him pick it up, God have mercy on the poor soul on the other end of the line.

Her bed rocked as Kisari jumped onto the mattress like she always did when she was still awake, her eyes glinting excitedly in the darkness. It was always a break in her typically dark character when she did this time honored tradition, especially since she looked as giddy as a child…or Duo, from what she could see of her friend.

"What is it now?" she half moaned, half groaned as she twisted around under her bed sheets, not caring if it made Kisari uncomfortable or dislodged her from her perch.

"I want to show you something," the more alert girl whispered in answer, her voice full of energy. "C'mon and get up!"

Not in the mood for this crap, Sylvia turned away from the other girl, her growling, sleep-deprived voice urging the other girl to forget about it and go back to bed. If only she could be tired enough to fall asleep right now…

"Sylvia! C'mon!" Kisari continued to bug her. "It'll be worth it! I promise!"

"Will it get you to leave me alone?" Sylvia sighed as she sat up, her eyes glaring blearily at the other girl.

"Cross my heart and hope to die," Kisari swore with the childish promise.

"Lets get this over with then," Sylvia grumbled as she slipped out of bed and followed after her energetic friend.

Going down the hallway, well Kisari was tiptoeing down it while Sylvia just trudged down it, the two paused near the stairs where they could see her grandfather at the foot of it; the man adjusting his uniform in an unsettled manner, an uncharacteristic scowl on his face. The two girl looked at each other, asking one another silently what was going on. Did it have anything to do with that call?

Not wanting to stick around less they be caught, Kisari tugged on Sylvia's sleeve and coaxed the girl to follow after her. Once they were further down the hallway, both felt much safer as they continued to increase the distance between them and her upset grandfather. However, Sylvia didn't perk up, so immersed in her thoughts as she was, until the two of them stopped in front of a door, one that she noted was the guestroom that was lent to…Duo…

"What are we going here?" she hissed to her friend.

At that, Kisari grinned wickedly and pulled out a can of shaving cream and a feather. "Revenge," the girl whispered. "I've been waiting to get him back ever since he called me ugly! C'mon! You just gotta see this!"

Seeing as she had come this far, she sighed. "Fine, just make it quick."

Eyes lighting up with a wicked gleam, Kisari carefully turned the handle and opened the door, slipping in as quickly as she could and gesturing for Sylvia to follow. Not wanting to get caught out here by her grandfather, Sylvia entered as well, shutting the door as quietly as she could so that her best friend's "plan" wasn't screwed over.

It was needless to say that it was dark in here. Sylvia waited a moment to let her eyes adjust to the lack of light first before she ventured forth towards the bed where Duo was sleeping. The braided boy was fast asleep, much to her envy, and now that he didn't have that curious about everything look… Wow, he was quite a looker actually.

It's amazing the things that you can see about someone when they're asleep…

It was such a shame that Kisari was going to ruin this because of her grudge against him. Just look at him! He looked so peaceful and…and his mouth looked so kissable! Wait, why was she thinking about something like that? What did it have to do with anything? Was it because she hadn't gotten any in a while and was willing to jump the first thing she laid eyes on?

It was possible and maybe because of it, maybe not, she had this feeling that she needed to stop Kisari from doing anything to him. It didn't seem like she needed to, though, since her friend also seemed to be in awe of the braided boy. Hell, she was licking her lips for God's sake! She had to stand up now before it could go any further.

Like Kisari had done to her earlier, she tugged on the sleeve of her friend's nightgown and tired to urge her away with out. Unlike last time when Sylvia had obeyed, Kisari remained rooted where she was standing, her eyes transfixed on the boy and when she did begin to move, it was towards Duo and not the door where Sylvia wanted to go.

Kneeling next to the bed, Kisari leaned over as best as she could from her position, gazing down on the boy that had dared to call her ugly, her hand's grip on the can of shaving cream tightening and loosening every few seconds. Oh how she wanted to get back at this boy by using one of the oldest tricks in the book but she just couldn't bring herself to take the next step. In fact, she hadn't noticed when her brain had given over control to her hormones; she was still a growing teenager after all and one that rarely, if ever participated in anything of the sexual nature due to being the kind of secluded person she was. The opportunity was just too tempting and she had to make a choice immediately before she overloaded.

Much to her surprise, she leant over the sleeping Duo kissed him chastely on his lips. Pulling away abruptly, she pressed her fingers to her tingling lips, the sensation new to her and not unwelcome. Licking her lips, she forgot all about her original purpose as her world became narrowed down to this one boy's now parted lips. She wanted another taste of him, her hormones demanded it of her and she wasn't strong-willed enough to resist them.

So she kissed the sleeping boy again, lingering a bit longer this time before pulling away, watching the boy critically as he stirred and shifted around under the covers. When he didn't regain consciousness, she sighed to herself in relief.

"What are you doing?!" Sylvia unexpectedly hissed into her ear.

Jumping in shock, she nearly rammed her skull against Sylvia's but managed to avoid such a fate just in time. Gathering her wit quickly, she gave Sylvia a smirk and replied, "What does it look like I'm doing?"

"It looks like you're molesting him in his sleep!" Sylvia hissed.

"I'm not molesting him, I'm kissing him," Kisari corrected defensively. "Don't knock it until you try it. Go ahead."

Sylvia blinked at the invitation. Oh hell no; there was no way she was about to do that, especially when the boy in question was fast asleep and so tempting a target…

Damn it.

Peer pressure was a bitch, and after throwing her ex-best friend a glare, Sylvia leaned over the sleeping boy and stared down at his face. Instead of going for the direct approach, instead she aimed just a little higher and pecked the boy on the tip of his nose, pulling back as he scrunched his nose cutely and rolled to a side, inadvertently facing the two girls.

Instead of being appalled by committing such an action, the blonde Noventa actually felt a slight thrill at this. The expectancy for Duo to wake up right now was more arousing than it was terrifying. In fact, Sylvia thought that maybe one more kiss wouldn't hurt anything and pecked him again, this time on his forehead. She pulled away only about an inch away this time before going back in, proceeding in peppering the slumbering Duo's face with chaste pecks. Every peck completed continued to send that addictive thrill through the girl's body that she had to keep giving another one and another one until gave a chaste kiss straight to the lips, nibbling on Duo's lower lip before pulling back this time.

Her breathing was heavier this time as she sought to catch her breath, unable to believe what she had just done. And she wanted more, oh so much more…

Kisari seemed to be of a similar mind as she had circled around the bed to the other side and gently pulled Duo back onto his back, settling herself lightly next to him. Sylvia eagerly pulled herself up to gently rest on Duo's other side and helped her friend in pulling back the bedcovers. With his slight form still dressed in a baggy shirt and sweats, the two girls drank up the sight of the sleeping beauty before looking up into each other's eyes and making a silent agreement.

With experienced hands, Sylvia ran her hands down Duo's clothed torso, fingers lightly grazing the cloth and journeying lower and lower down the boy's body. Kisari was less experienced and thus her touches were more heavy handed and remained focused in a specific area, hardly exploring at all. Sylvia leaned down and began lavishing some attention onto the left side, her side, of Duo's face, paying particular attention to his ear, nibbling gently on the lobe she found there. She soon pulled one of her hands away to balance herself, letting the other continue with its little games as it drifted lower and lower.

It was when her fingers encountered the heated bulge that was Duo's arousal that Duo's violet eyes suddenly snapped opened and took in his surroundings fearfully. What was going on? Who was touching him all over…and down there…?

Temporarily stumped at this, it was Sylvia who took charge, whispering little things into his ear, gently squeezing his hardening self. Kisari took her cue from her friend and began to expand her explorations as she trailed her hands all over Duo's chest.

"It's all right," Sylvia breathed into the braided one's ear. "This is normal, perfectly normal… Just relax and we'll make you feel good…"

Lulled by the promising whispers, Duo swallowed and remained paralyzed, letting the two girls have free reign with him.


	21. When Darkness Falls

Author's Note: The title of this chapter is the name of a song by Killswitch Engage, which I believe fits this chapter in its entirety. Be prepared as I believe this is Xavien at his finest and believe me, people will die today. Also, I want to mention there's a new OC, one by Kibin Okami by the name of Pike Verso who finally gets his introduction into the story. Tell me how I did KO because I want, no need, your input. On one last note, this is my longest chapter ever produced to date, oneshots not withstanding. Without further ado, enjoy.

Disclaimer: I do not own Gundam Wing or Kibin Okami's Pike Verso.

Warning: language, violence, death

When Darkness Falls

"There had better be a good explanation for this," Noventa grumbled as he got into the jeep that had been sent to escort him to the military base that was about an hour's drive from his estate. He was not happy that his precious time with his granddaughter and that intriguing boy had been interrupted and by Trieze of all people!

Was it too hard to ask for a semi-competent man to handle things while he took some much needed R&R?

The driver remained silent, an odd trait for someone who should be used to his presence. Noventa frowned at the man beside him but refrained from saying anything. Now that he took a good look at the man, he was much larger than the personnel that he was used to dealing with on a daily basis and since when did the army allow pony tails?

He was just about to pose his question to the soldier when he felt something hard, thin, and metallic press up against his throat. It didn't take a rocket scientist to figure out that he was being held against his will by a knife and his driver wasn't doing anything about this.

"Do you know how much of a pain in the ass you can be?" a voice breathed into his ear, hot air wafting over the fleshy protrusion.

Noventa frowned at the sound of that familiar voice. He was sure he had heard it from somewhere before but it was a bit hard trying to pinpoint it, especially since the owner of the voice had a very sharp blade pressed against his neck.

The voice then spoke up again, speaking to the driver, "Malkov, pull over and fix the rearview mirror up there, would you?"

Malkov obeyed the owner of the voice immediately, slowing the jeep down and pulling over, placing his large hand on the elongated mirror that was attached to windshield and turning it so that the Admiral could get a good look at just who held his life in his hands.

"Xavien," Noventa uttered, spitting the name out as if it was a curse. "Have you lost your mind? You have gone too far, pulling this little stunt."

"By all means, this is no stunt," Xavien said into his ear. "You see, for some time now, you have been putting a client of mine under a lot of pressure. At the rate things are going, he'll have a coronary or an ulcer before this is all said and done and I can't have his health jeopardized, not just yet anyway."

"And just what, pray tell, am I doing to stress your 'client' so much?" Noventa deadpanned.

"Sticking your nose in places it shouldn't be," Xavien replied. "Tell me, does the name Project Maxwell mean anything to you?"

Noventa narrowed his eyes. "I take it Septum's in on this as well?"

"Quite right."

"And the 'emergency' at the base, it's just some ploy to get me out in the open. There's nothing going on over there at all."

"I wouldn't say that necessarily. You see, right now that base is experiencing some…operational difficulties, that is if Mordred is not too busy making their lives a living hell."

"You won't get away with this," Noventa stated. "People will notice that I'm missing. You'll be harming yourselves more going through with this than just telling me what I wanted to know in the first place."

"_Au contraire_, Admiral," Xavien admonished. "I don't think that'll be a problem, not at all. Malkov, if you will turn the mirror again."

Obeying his employer once more, Malkov changed the angle of the mirror and the sight that Noventa could now see caused his eyes to open wide. He opened his mouth to demand what was going on just as a massive boom of thunder erupted overhead and Xavien slid his knife back.

As blood streamed from the man's slit throat, Xavien continued to speak into his ear, "Do you see the futility of standing against me now, Admiral? You underestimated the power that is Project Maxwell for the last time and now…you pay the price for your interference." Chuckling, he added, "Don't be scared, you won't be alone for long. I'll be paying a little visit to Sylvia to inform her about her loss, then I'll send her to join you. Perhaps you two can share a coffin? That is, if there's anything left when I'm through with her."

Struggling with all his might, Noventa finally lost the battle and his grip on life broke, his eyes glazing over in death.

Chuckling once more, Xavien said, "Turn the car around. We mustn't keep the missus waiting."

---

Dark shadows stole towards the mansion, crossing the expanse of the estate itself and heading for the front entrance. Most of these shadows were black-clothed men, each one holding either a standard M-16 assault rifle or a banana-clip Uzi. They held up positions on either side of the door and motioned for another dark figure to come. This figure was much smaller than the armed men mainly due to his lanky frame that wasn't helped at all by the skin-tight black uniform he wore. The youth who the men deferred to eyed the intricate design that was the door handle and lock and with a slightly creepy smirk, he said to himself, "Lovely."

Touching the bare skin of his hand against the door ornament, an automatic click was heard and the doors opened for the men. The youth was the first to cross over the threshold and into the lighted interior of the mansion, revealing his bleached pure white hair that spiked in all directions messily and steel blue eyes that didn't seem to be all there as he took in his surroundings.

As the armed men behind him trickled in behind him, the boy known as Pike Verso sniffed the air, smiling lazily to himself as he located his one true passion, his only joy in this truly bleak world. His steps were casual and almost lazy as he headed down a random hallway without a second thought. He passed door after door without paying any thought to them before coming to a stop in front of two large doors that he opened harshly. Stepping into the large room, his eyes gazed lovingly at the sight of sculptures and statues that were the secret pride of the late Admiral Noventa.

"Beautiful," he whispered in hushed tones as he approached a particular sculpture of an Ancient Roman warrior. He trailed his fingers lightly against the marble, his body quivering in delight as he felt the energies within the artwork. Few truly understood how much energy and attention it took to craft such works of beauty; only a handful knew that artworks themselves held spiritual energies from the very artist himself but Pike was one of those handful of people. Unlike the rest of that handful, though, he could not only touch this residual energy but he wielded it in a very skillful manner.

His hands suddenly spasmed and jolted against the smooth stone and the statue shuddered, the marble shifting and allowing the lifelike figure to move which it did. It stood before Pike stoically, waiting whatever its master willed for it to do.

"See if you can find the mistress of this house," Pike instructed, his voice naturally soft. "Give her my regards before you send her off into oblivion."

The statue nodded, understanding all that its master required for her and began to take heavy yet unexpectedly soft steps, none of its movements jerking but smooth and fluid like it was an actual human being. The statue headed for the staircase that would lead it to the second floor, intent on fulfilling its master's will.

Outside, the incoming storm slowly blew overhead, thunder rumbling within the dark, cloudy masses.

---

The jeep pulled up to the mansion and Xavien stared outside the tinted windows expectantly as one of his men approached the vehicle.

"We've found the weapon," the man reported, much to the businessman's satisfaction.

"I'll deal with it myself," Xavien stated, an evil smirk growing on his face. "Tell me, where exactly is it hiding?"

---

A sudden urge to go to the bathroom had Kisari up and about, taking care of her business in a tired fashion. Tonight had been quite a night for her and Sylvia, unexpected of course, but quite enjoyable. She felt slightly sore but she couldn't let that bring her down, not tonight.

As she stepped out of the bathroom, she froze in her tracks and had to rub her eyes in disbelief at what she thought she saw. Blinking them, the milky-white vision of seeing one of Sylvia's grandfather's statues walking down the hallway was not dispelled in anyway and was it her imagination or was that thing going into Sylvia's room?

---

Sylvia found herself waking up, unsettled for some reason. How could that be when she had gone to bed earlier feeling exhausted yet so relieved? She opened her bleary eyes and stared though the darkness of her room up at her ceiling as if it held all the answers to her questions.

Huh, why did she get the feeling she was being watched? Was it Kisari trying to freak her out again or was it Duo coming into her room for some unknown reason? She didn't care if it was; all she wanted was to go back to her beauty sleep!

Turning her head to the side slightly, she frowned as she noticed a ghostly white form standing right next to her bed, blank eyes staring down at her emotionlessly. What the…? What was this? Was she experiencing a mirage or something? Her mind was probably playing tricks on her because there was no way in hell one of her grandfather's statues was in her room.

The white apparition lifted a hand that she watched sleepily, not comprehending what it meant, not even when it fell down and found its way into her face. The stone fist caved her head in and continued straight through the mattress before it stopped, blood spilling down it and staining the once white marble blood red.

---

There was a storm coming but Duo took no heed of it was he sat alone on a couch in Nathan's office. His mind was in turmoil as he still tried to process just what had occurred only an hour or so ago. He tried reaching out to his other self but damn it, his other self was such a heavy sleeper that it wasn't funny. It was like Isley all over again except there was no Isley and he wasn't in any danger.

Thunder boomed just outside, rattling the large window in Nathan's office and Duo flinched impulsively. Other than that, he remained still, attempting to sort out all the conflicting emotions warring within him. Sylvia and Kisari…he still didn't get why they had snuck into his room and he had no idea what they were doing but he admitted that it had felt good for some unknown reason that was just beyond him. Why had it felt like it had? And why did it make him feel so…dirty? This was so confusing that it was making his head hurt…

He wrapped his arms around himself, trying to give comfort to himself and wishing wholeheartedly that Solo was here. Solo knew a lot about stuff and he should know what had happened earlier was called. He had not felt so alone in a long time, not since back at that horrible place that he and Solo had escaped from.

Lightning streaked across the night sky outside, followed one second later by another boom of thunder that masked the sound of the door opening. While he wasn't aware of someone else joining him in Nathan's office, he felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand up at the familiar sensation of eyes boring into him. With his body as tense as it was, it was no surprise that he was trembling which only increased as the door was shut quietly with an almost deafening yet soft click. Soft footsteps carried the newcomer closer and closer to him and soon Duo's trembling became more like shivers as he had a gut feeling he knew who this was and it was the last person on Earth that he wanted to see again.

A smooth and well-groomed hand patted his head, fingers digging through his long, chestnut hair before leaving like a wisp as the newcomer circled behind the couch. He came into sight from Duo's right and headed towards the couch opposite of him, taking a seat on it in a casual manner and watching him with his all too cruel eyes.

His fears fully realized, Duo felt himself paralyze under the gaze of the two different colored eyes, one brown and one green. The man across from him crossed a leg over the other and rested his arms on top of the back of the couch, never taking his eyes off the braided boy for an instant.

"Did you really think that you could escape me, 11085?" Xavien inquired with an air of nonchalance.

And there were the dreaded words.

Duo didn't say anything; what could he say? He lowered his eyes, not wanting to look straight at Xavien but not willing to entice his anger but blatantly looking in another direction. He could feel his other self beginning to stir but at this point he highly doubted that he would be able to do anything in this situation. Despite being the bolder, more aggressive side of him, Reaper was always a bit cautious when it came to be being in the physical presence of this man. To give himself a form of comfort, he took hold of his braid and fiddled with it, trying to will away all the stress he was experiencing.

If Xavien had been expecting some sort of answer, he didn't show it. In fact, he probably was expecting this reaction from the braided boy since this was how he was back at the underground facility. Taking the initiative again, he said, "I'm afraid that I've kept your leash too loose for too long and that, I will admit, is my fault. I let you spend too much time with 12093 and look at what it's done to you. Convinced you to go off on some wild scheme for what? Freedom? Escape? I'm just dieing to know exactly what was going through 12093's mind. Then again, 12093 would know what those tasted like since he was _human_ once upon a time…"

Duo blinked and tightened his grip on the end of his braid. "He _is_ human," he mumbled defiantly. "_I_ am human too. James said so."

This time it was Xavien who blinked, even as thunder boomed from outside. "James? You mean Maxwell? You actually _found_ him?" Noticing Duo's body tensing with each question, Xavien smirked inwardly. "My, my, what a surprise. Well, we'll get back to him later, when you're more willing to be open. But honestly, human? He actually told you that? He couldn't be further from the truth, at least for you."

"You're a liar," Duo whispered heatedly.

"Now that just hurts," Xavien mock-pouted as he brought a hand to his chest as if he was affronted. "No really, it does, after all I've done for you too. Hell, I gave you my own seed to bring you life! You should be honored that half of the blood that runs through your veins belongs to me."

"No," Duo whimpered, curling up on himself as he tightened his grip on his braid, trying to denying the accusation this man was throwing at him.

"I assure you, when it comes to this, I do not lie," Xavien said flippantly. "I remember quite well harvesting Helen's eggs since, in order to create life, you need both gamete cells and I couldn't just have anyone donate their sperm. You see, you're a part of something larger than you can imagine, something that was created from the union of one of the most beautiful persons I have ever met and I myself. From your conception, you have grown from the inside of a test tube, soaking in and absorbing the wondrous substance that is Solution 1051. You have never known what it is to be inside a womb; you never were given life in the typical fashion. From the beginning you have been nothing more than a weapon, a tool of war that I can wield at any moment I choose.

"But I gave you too much free reign and now look at you. The poster child of Project Maxwell malfunctioning in such a disgraceful manner! I had always known that 12093 was defective from the beginning and it's my fault for not removing you from his presence when I had the chance."

"Stop it," Duo pleaded, clasping his hands over his ears, one hand still holding on to his braid. He didn't want to believe any of it, didn't want to put any credibility into what this horrible man was saying. He wanted to fade into the darkness of his mind and let his other self handle this but Reaper was being uncooperative and refusing to come out for some reason.

"The truth is hard, isn't it?" Xavien said mercilessly. "Helen was the same way after she made her involuntary donation. She had the same look on her face, just as you do now; in fact, you look so much like her that you might as well be her twin! Funny thing, last I heard, she became a nun before simply vanishing off the map. James probably had something to do with that but her usefulness to me was at its end a long time ago."

Wait, a nun? Could he be talking about…Sister Helen? The most beautiful person in the world? He couldn't mean the same person, he just couldn't!

"Such distress you are in, it's like sweet caviar!" Xavien commented as he stood up from his seat, his form towering over the balled up figure that was Duo. Moving to circle around the couch opposite him, Xavien continued, "Unfortunately, I'm not here to savor your emotional misery and while I'd like to leave you in your current state, that is not possible at this time. Fortunately I thought ahead far enough to give you a reset button, so to speak."

---

Standing between a few trees on the outskirts of the Noventa estate, an armed XAI employee was in the midst of doing his job when he suddenly jolted and fell to the ground, his body twitching before lying still, a sharp, metal protrusion sticking out from his neck.

Emerging from the foliage, dark-clad, new arrivals began to stream in with their own agenda…

---

What was he talking about? Re…set…button? What did that mean?

His confusion must've been obvious but Xavien seemed not to take any heed of it as he stalked around the braided boy like he was a slab of meat, enjoying this moment to its fullest.

"You'd be surprised how powerful the mind is," he said conversationally as he stopped himself just behind Duo and let his finger begin petting the chestnut locks as if the braided boy was a pet. "It's so complex yet if you know how to manipulate it, it's easy to mold. However, ever since your 'conception,' you have proved quite a nasty challenge to deal with in that regard, not that I mind challenges."

Duo was becoming confused and he clutched his braid tighter as he remained frozen in his seat.

"Having Disassociate Identity Disorder was not one of the things I had expected to deal with but then again it made employing Pavlovian classical conditioning methods a nice challenge with interesting results. Had to focus all of the training on just one of your personalities but that's the thing with having three of them. You still have two to work with if the first one doesn't pan out. Fortunately, there was no need to go beyond the first personality since it adapted so well to the training."

Wait. What did he mean by three? There was only two in his head, him and Reaper! Unless…unless he was talking about that other thing in his head, the one that took over whenever he heard certain words in a certain order with a certain tune…

"Do you understand now?" Xavien questioned, his fingers suddenly biting into his scalp, his fingers tugging the roots of his hair painfully. "I know you better than you know yourself; I know all the little details that you're too naïve to understand. I made you and you belong to me, body and mind. All I need to do is say the beginning verse of _Jeepers Creepers_ and you become nothing more than a mindless, robotic killing machine! It's foolish of you to try and reach for something that you never had in the first place or will you ever."

Duo had a death grip on his braid and he could feel Reaper finally acting along with that third personality as the words _Jeepers Creepers_ was mentioned, both preparing to move to the forefront and take over. He was filling up with relief that his other was going to handle this and he could feel the tenseness of his muscles lessening. But there was that other him and that only served to counteract the relief he felt with Reaper being so close to taking over.

"But now you don't have to worry about any of that any longer," Xavien said in a concluding voice. "The long overdue time to end this charade, your existence, has come at last."

Xavien relocated the hand that he had placed on Duo's head so that he grabbed hold of the end of Duo's braid. A knife slid out of his coat sleeve and with a hard slice, Xavien cut off the long braid, separating it from the brunet's head. The sudden loss in weight disrupted the equilibrium within the boy's head and the failsafe that had been programmed into him since his psychological conditioning training had been completed activated. Duo's eyes widened and darkened, as if all life in them had vanished without a trace.

Patting the body that had housed the multiple personality and would soon house another more pliant one, Xavien chuckled, circling around the couch to get a good look at his deactivated weapon, making sure that the failsafe had worked.

"Unlike your little friend, I at least have the option of starting over with you," Xavien spoke malevolently into the silence. "Get your rest while you can. You'll need it when I get you back to the base where we'll start your training all over again and this time, I will not allow your mind to fragment like it did last time. You will be my perfect weapon, just as you always were meant to be."

Just as he was in the midst of savoring this moment, one of his men suddenly burst into the office, spoiling the mood, much to the businessman's ire. "I thought I said no one was to interrupt me," he growled.

"Sir! There's a sit—" The man began but was cut off as a gunshot ripped through his body, blood splattering on the office door.

Eyes widening, Xavien abandoned his position in front of Duo and flipped the coffee table onto its side. He had just ducked under his makeshift cover just as an enemy combatant stood in the doorway and level a haze of bullets at the villain. When the gunman paused to reload, Xavien took the chance to take out his personal pistol and take a shot at the man, the bullet meeting with the man's bulletproof vest. While not injuring the other man, Xavien took the time his shot had bought him to move away from the bullet-riddled coffee table and hid behind the arm of the couch that he had sat on only minutes before.

By then, however, more unfamiliar armed men had arrived and while others were laying cover fire, another made his way to the comatose Duo and scooped him up, the boy's braid hanging loosely in his hand. Peeking his head out slightly, Xavien saw this and released a "No!" attracting the attention of the other armed man who began to level fire at the couch.

The couch shielded Xavien from the gunfire but he was beyond pissed at seeing _his_ weapon be taken from him so easily. As the enemy men began to leave, he took a shot at the last one, nailing him in the base of his spine with his bullet and falling the unawares victim. At last, XAI personnel finally showed up and trained their weapons at the fallen enemy but they were too late to prevent 11085's abduction, something that rankled in Xavien's kiester.

Emerging from his hiding spot, he stalked towards the men and crouched next to the fallen one, his hand digging through the unrecognized outfit until it emerge with an ID badge, one with a recognized logo.

Snarling, Xavien took the knife he had used to cut 11085's braid and impaled it into the injured man's throat, ignoring the gurgling sounds as the man drowned in his own blood while a single word escaping his lips.

"Romafellor."

---

The Romafellor agents charged through the woods, one of the men carrying their precious load while the others fired occasional shots to keep the XAI forces from getting too close. Just as their rendezvous appeared, multiple vans ready to be filled with the surviving agents, a lucky shot was fired by XAI and took out the man holding Duo, the lifeless doll of a person falling onto the ground, his body cushioned by the grassy earth.

In no time, another Romafellor agent picked him up and carried him the rest of the way to the vans, his fate sealed as the door was slammed shut and the vehicle rocketed off.

---

Trowa's head snapped up.

Noticing this sudden movement, Solo asked, "What?"

Not watching his words, Trowa answered immediately, "I just felt Duo."

Frowning, Solo demanded, "Come again."

Realizing what he had just done, the unibanged young man groaned to himself, a noise that was muffled by the torrents of rain that had forced them into abandoned general store, one that had gone out of business due to its isolated location. After being chased away by a horde of zombies and across the desert in a haphazardly way only to come under fire from the very elements themselves, the group of three had to take cover quickly for the night. And now here they were, after Dorothy had messily patched them up using whatever materials she could find, and Trowa had found himself dropping the bomb.

Sighing, he said, "I've found Duo, or at least he touched a plant and they told me."

"Ya mean you can talk ta some green thing miles away from here and ya didn't even think ta tell me?" Solo growled.

"Not initially, no," Trowa answered. "It takes some time to get the word spread out and no, I'm not talking to 'some green thing miles away from here.' They're speaking to me by passing along the information to other plants. It takes a while and Duo is some distance away from here so—"

"I don't understand a freakin' word your sayin' but if your saying you know where Duo is, ya better put your money where ya mouth is," Solo cut in.

"That's certainly a blunt way to put it," Dorothy muttered, wrapping her arms around her knees and pressing them closely to her body in an attempt to keep warm."

---

The house was under attack, of that Kisari was certain. It was a miracle that she was still alive, especially with all those men shooting at each other and wrecking the place. And if that wasn't all, Sylvia was dead with a statue's arm going through her head! She had vomited at the sight, something that even her desensitized mind couldn't handle.

She had fled but had managed to keep up a coherent frame of mind as the gunfights began and she knew that she needed to hide else she'd become another casualty. Despite putting up a tough girl front to all strangers that she met, even she knew that you didn't try and pull something like that to a guy with a gun.

So she hid in a hall closet.

Unfortunately, she couldn't get the door to close fully so she had a nice peek out into the hallway. But that wasn't all, no, this closet just happened to be cluttered with all of the documents and papers that Sylvia's grandfather kept and couldn't bear to throw away because he was a pack rat. She was practically being shoved out by discarded paperwork but she was a stubborn girl and she resisted with all her might.

It was quiet now but she wasn't about to venture forth yet. Who knew if those men were still out there, waiting to jump and kill her?

After a few minutes and nothing happening, her rapidly beating heart began to slow down and she began to think that she was alone now. However, that belief was soon corrected as a voice bellowed, "WHAT?!"

Her body jolted, shifting some stacks of paper that threatened to collapse on her but managed to hold on. Were those people still here?!

"How, oh how, could you have let them get away with 11085?!" the loud voice continued to yell. "What the hell am I paying you people for if you can't accomplish a simple seek-and-capture mission? I don't care if those men were from the army, you shouldn't have let them get away!"

Strange. Though loud, the voice sounded as if it was nearby for some reason. It wasn't moving, or at least she didn't think it was moving, but it still made her anxious. She was getting paper cuts just by sitting in this oversized file cabinet!

A thumping sound caught her attention and it took her a couple seconds to recognize it as someone kicking the wall, most likely the man who was screaming his lungs out. A stack of papers then toppled onto her lap, the papers sliding down and pressing against the door, opening it slightly by about an inch but the creaking of the door hinges forced her to freeze.

There was silence out there for a tense minute which was ended by someone muttering, dismissing the noise. At that, Kisari leaned back further into the closet, feeling with relief that she hadn't been discovered.

Then all the stacks of papers collapsed on top of her and burst out of the closet door. As the noise from the disaster began to die off, Kisari groaned out an "Ow," her body recovering from almost being crushed by a mountain of useless papers.

A hand grabbed her wrist roughly and dragged her out of the mess with no kindness in any of the actions. Kisari found herself running into a well-dressed man who was glaring down at her with two different colored eyes that were filled with such an intense hatred that she visibly flinched back. She could only back away so far as the man had yet to let go of her wrist.

Turning towards two dark-clad men and a short boy with white hair, he ordered, "I want you to locate 11085's location immediately. I'll take of this little rat first and when we leave, I want to know where Romafellor is taking it, understood? Now go."

The men and boy left quickly and the well-dressed man dragged her down the hallway after him, stopping in front of Sylvia's grandfather's office and shoving her into the room. Slamming and locking the doors shut behind him, the man took out a blood stained knife and looked down at the petrified girl with an unholy light in his eyes.

"Please try not to break too quickly," the man said casually. "I have a lot of steam to release and you're going to help me."

Her pain filled screams filled the room but would go unanswered and unheeded.


	22. Pieces Fall into Place

Author's Note: Since you all probably have questions remaining from the last chapter, this one should answer a good amount of them. Enjoy.

Disclaimer: I do not own Gundam Wing.

Warning: language, violence

Pieces Fall into Place

It had been a long night for Trieze Khushrenada.

The early morning sun could be seen rising from the horizon, its light falling over the capital of the greatest nation on Earth and bringing it slowly to life. Yet that life did not reach the colonel who had not gotten a wink of sleep at all during the night and morning had come all too soon for him.

The normally composed and regal man looked like a wreck, his face buried into his hands and his hair so mussed up that it didn't look anything like the man's usually groomed do. Some would get concerned seeing him like this but he had closeted himself off in his private office, waiting for a call to come in that would tell him all he needed to know.

It wasn't everyday that your mentor and father figure was murdered and that you were a reason why…

---

Mr. Romafellor stared down at the comatose boy who was currently stretched out on a bed and covered with probes and tubes, all of which told the elder man that the body he was looking at was alive. Well, it was actually the machines that surrounded the room that told him that but he wasn't going to get into any detail now anyway.

However, that didn't explain _why_ the boy needed to be hooked up to all this machinery in the first place. He had been vehement when he learned of this boy's condition, believing it to have been caused by one of his men sent in during the snatch-and-grab operation. Brain scans, though, told a different story and while he didn't understand half of the jargon, all he knew was that the boy's condition was done on purpose and not as a result of his own men.

There had been a report that Xavien himself had been at the Noventa estate at the time, though no one could say why, yet, and Romafellorr felt in his gut that that man was involved with this somehow.

Still, it was hard to believe that this boy was a survivor of Project Maxwell and capable of some incredible stunts that defied all logical explanation. However, he was still waiting for some confirmation of the identity of the boy and that would explain why he was here waiting for the Yuy boy and his girlfriend. If they recognized him, then he would know the truth and be one step closer to getting what he wanted.

The door to the small room opened, admitting the two children he had been waiting for and his hardened blue eyes snapped upwards to capture the boy and girl. The girl had a look of defeat, as if she was in resignation to her fate, whatever it might be, but the boy still had a look of determination and defiance, even as he held the Darlian girl's hand. It was the look on the Darlian girl's face that he had been looking forward to for quite some time; the girl had given up and would allow herself to be used however he himself saw fit.

Perfect.

"What do you want now?" the Yuy boy growled, his eyes trained on the elder businessman maliciously. "Haven't we already given you enough yet? What more do you want?!"

Ignoring the outburst as if it hadn't happened, he looked back down at the comatose boy on the bed and said, "Does this person look familiar to you?"

While the Yuy boy bristled, Romafellor noticed from the corner of his eye the Darlian girl approaching, stopping a few feet away as her body tensed. He looked up at her and saw the recognition in her eyes and he knew then and there that this boy was what he had been looking for. It was all the conformation he needed.

"Wait," the girl murmured, cutting Romafellor's thoughts off prematurely. "He's…different…"

"How so?" he demanded gruffly, focusing his complete attention on the girl. If his men had grabbed the wrong person…

The girl frowned as she closed the distance between her and the bed, studying the boy on the bed intently. Her hand touched the pallid skin on his cheek and slid down it, as if searching for something. Romafellor was not one who enjoyed being out of the loop, no matter what it was, and he waited impatiently for what the girl was going to say next. The Darlian girl tilted the boy's head to a side, continuing in her examination and her eyes widened.

"His braid's gone," she thought out loud, much to Romafellor's delight. Missing hair? He could get some analysts to look at that and determine the cut of the hair. Things were beginning to look up.

However, the girl's hand had gone up to the boy's face by now and pried open an eye to reveal a deadened violet iris. The girl removed her hand from the body as if she had been burned and she began to tremble uncontrollably.

"Relena? What's wrong?" the Yuy boy spoke up, coming to the girl's side worriedly.

The girl threw herself into the boy's arms, the boy wrapping his arms around the girl's torso and holding her up as she lost all of her composure. "It's Duo," she told the Yuy boy in a voice that was meant to be hushed but the elder man overheard easily.

So she did recognize him; excellent.

"What did you do to him," Heero demanded of the businessman, glaring up…down at him, unaware that he was just solidifying all the information that Romafellor had obtained during this session.

"I did absolutely nothing," he replied, his voice in its usual softness. "If you want to know, why don't you ask Xavien? He would know better than I since he was seen with this Duo when my men grabbed him. But that is going to be something I will rectify; your little friend here is the key to busting open all the secrets that Project Maxwell has to offer."

Walking towards the two teens, he placed a hand on each of their shoulders and began to push them towards the door. "For now, I have no need for your services so if you will go back to your holding, I would be much obliged."

"You can't keep us here forever," Heero growled, his glare promising death to the man.

"On the contrary, I can keep you here until your old enough to wonder why Medicare isn't paying your bills," Romafellor replied. "You've been in over your heads for quite some time and only now are you understanding that you are drowning. You're playing with the big boys now, Yuy, and we play for keeps."

---

Once the Yuy boy and Darlian girl had been taken care of, Romafellor returned to his offices where he ordered his secretary to patch him in to Washington, specifically the office of one Colonel Trieze Khushrenada.

"As of now we have the weapon," Romafellor stated into the phone. "Your information was indeed invaluable but you cut it close. Xavien almost reclaimed him. Had you waited any longer, we would've lost him."

"What about Noventa?" the uncharacteristically haggard voice of Trieze asked, almost sounding desperate.

Sighing, Romafellor pinched the bridge of his nose. "Xavien got to him first, Khushrenada. I've received word that Admiral Noventa is no longer among us. It's a pity really; he was such a worthy adversary if I don't say so myself."

There was a sigh of disappointment on the other end. "Is there anything that you require?" the colonel asked, his voice dull.

"Not at this moment," Romefellor stated. "Just keep an eye on WEI for me. They're just beginning to sniff around and already one too many people are involved or have a stake in this. It's bad enough that XAI's already involved but I don't want that self-righteous bastard Winner and his self-centered family getting into any of this."

"As you command, Mr. Romafellor," Trieze said, hanging up a second later.

---

The doors banged opened and a furious Xavien stormed into the room, his face expressing the pure fury that held control over him and clouded his mind. Personnel scrambled out of his way as he entered the labs, a glare of his anger clouded eyes striking terror into the men and women that had worked for him on Project Maxwell since its conception.

Adverting his eyes to the one-way mirror where he could see the large hulk that was #14376, a.k.a. Sigmund, he demanded, "How far along is it?"

Stultified by his unexpected question, the staff of lab technicians and staff remained silent, just staring at the furious man before them. This only served to increase Xavien's irritation as he nearly exploded.

"Answer me!" he barked. "How far is 14736?!"

"H-h-h-he's-s-s-s n-n-nearly d-d-done," a scientist squeaked out nearly cowering behind a clipboard as Xavien leveled his glaring eyes on the man.

Turning to look back at Sigmund, he glared at the twitching mass of muscle, thinking to himself in silence as all those around him regarded him with the same type of caution one would associate with a ferocious predator.

"Increase the dosage," Xavien suddenly snapped.

"Sir?" a technician inquired.

Not having any of it, Xavien stormed his way towards the controls just under the glass and shoved the technician out of the way. "I said, increase the dosage," Xavien growled out as he grabbed the dials that controlled and managed the flow of Solution 1051 and electricity into Sigmund's body and twisted them violently.

Sigmund jolted and strained against the restraints holding him back, grunts of pain howling from his mouth as he was electrocuted and pumped full of the purplish-clear liquid. Due to his regenerative abilities, he wasn't killed outright by the over-dosage and slowly his body began to change.

As the XAI employees backed away from the sight in horror, Xavien remained standing where he was, a teeth-baring smile giving him the look of a man who had lost all reason.

---

It was in the early morning hours that Quatre found himself in the middle of nowhere, surrounded by his loyal and trusted "personal guard." That was just an exaggeration since these large, burly, Arabian men were his direct employees and reported to him and only him. His father had no say what went on among these "black ops" of WEI and the less he knew, the better

"Glad you could make it, Master Quatre," Rashid greeted him, the large man bowing before the much smaller and younger man. "We have the area secure and the target is unaware of us."

"Good," Quatre said as he led the way towards the saloon in which his intelligence dictated that their target was busy getting drunk off his ass. He had no picture of the target but he did have a description and the individual was quite unique.

It shouldn't be too much trouble to simply grab him and take him to a secure location.

"I'll go in first and see if I can't lure him out," he said aloud. "If it's no good, then he's all yours."

"Be careful Master Quatre," Rashid cautioned him but made no objection to the plan. The Winner heir had made similar plans before in the past and never had they backfired before. Plus, the younger blond had this charm about him that was hard to ignore and had a tendency to wrap the unawares in a web of intrigue.

"Don't worry, I will," Quatre replied, throwing a small smile to the large man.

With that, he entered the bar that, though large, was smoke-filled and decrepit, at least to a man of Quatre's caliber. More than one pair of eyes looked up at him and remained focused on him but he ignored them with ease. Used to such stares in the past, it would take a lot more to get him to even consider looking at one of these…homely folk.

Plus, it was the loud fellow at the bar who had his full, undivided attention.

Studying the drunk, he matched him to the description he had and smirked. Looks like he had the right man. Now to work his magic on him…

Taking a seat on a stool next to the drunk, the Winner heir ordered a beer and waited politely for it. Once he had the bottle of Budweiser in his hand, he chugged half of it down like he drank such crap all the time. In truth, he preferred wine and champagne over beer but he wanted to make an impression first before he went in for the kill.

Setting his beverage back on the bar but still retaining a loose grip on it, he turned his head towards the drunk right next to him and just stared.

It took a bit but not even someone as inebriated as this fellow could ignore the hair-raising feeling of eyes staring at them. In fact, as the drunk leveled his bleary eyes on him, he slurred, "Whaaat aaarree yyyou looookin' aaaaat?"

"You," he answered boldly, smiling slightly.

"Yyyoouu gottttaaa deathwisssshhh buddddyyy?" the drunk slurred, his aggravation dulled by all the alcohol he had consumed.

"Not really," he replied. "Just noticed you're drinking quite a bit. If you're not careful, you might get alcohol poisoning."

"Whhhhaaaatttt do yyyooouuuu caaaare?" the drunk sneered.

"Just some friendly advice," he shrugged. "Hey, how about you join me outside for a bit? The sunrise should be starting soon."

"Wwwhhhhooooo daaaa fuck ccccarrrreeesss 'booouuuutttt thaaaaatttt?"

"So you're not interested?" Quatre said, blinking innocently.

"Noooo. Noowwww get da fuck awaaaayyyy from meeeee!"

"Can't say I didn't try," Quatre sighed, eyeing up the other critically, measuring him. Coming to a conclusion he nodded to himself and spoke, pointing to something just on the other side of the drunk. "What's that?"

The drunk looked to where he was pointing and with his other hand, Quatre grabbed the back of his head and slammed it onto the bar harshly, leaving a slight dent in the smooth wood. The drunk blinked stupidly as he lifted his head back up and Quatre slammed it back down again, this time effectively knocking him out.

By now, the bar was entirely silent and a whole stunned audience was watching him keenly. Standing up after downing the rest of his beer, Quatre raised his hands up and clapped twice, a sound that easily cut through the silence in the room

As if on cue, Quatre's men entered the bar, heading straight towards him and the knocked out bar patron. As they took the dead weight away, the Winner heir took out a few bills and dropped them onto the counter, leaving a "keep the change" behind him as he headed after his men.

Pausing in the doorway, he turned around to the captive audience and said, "This goes without saying that none of you will mention any of what happened, right?"

Everyone nodded their heads robotically, still staring at the blond.

"Good! Have a nice night!" the blond chirped as he left the bar, closing the door behind him.


	23. Septum Takes Control

Author's Note: Things only go downhill from here on in. Also, I finally name another OC, this one by ShadowMajin. Enjoy.

Disclaimer: I do not own Gundam Wing or ShadowMajin's Brett Castle.

Warning: language, violence, death

Septum Takes Control

It was a misty morning that met Solo and company as they arrived one what had used to be the Noventa Estate. As they had unknowingly crossed the state border into California, the scenery around them had changed from barren wasteland to lush forest. Solo had never seen so much green in one place before in his entire life and while Dorothy didn't seemed that impressed by it, Trowa looked as if he was right at home as he continuously took deep breaths. It was a sound that was starting to annoy the blond and he knew for a fact that the unibanged fellow was not short of breath.

In truth, it had been some time since Trowa had been in the company of populace vegetation and it was a whole new, invigorating experience that he just had to breath in the cleaner air. It was so much better in quality than the air in the barren state of Arizona but he wasn't going to complain, not when he was experiencing such orgasmic joy.

No more were they surrounded by the sweltering heat of the desert, the same arid wasteland that easily zapped the strength out of everything not used to its unforgiving touch. The very coolness of the woods the trio found themselves in was a welcome sensation. No longer was the sun beating down on them, its heat attempting to burn them unmercifully. Instead, it was filtered out by the shade that fell onto them, the light and heat from the sun blocked by the multitudes of branches and leaves, nature's natural umbrellas.

The sounds of chirping birds filled the silence among the trio, none of the three venturing to say anything. That was how Solo preferred it actually; there would be enough time to talk once he found Duo.

"Wait," Trowa suddenly spoke up as they reached a dirt covered lane that ran through the woods. The unibanged young man looked as if he was searching for something or using that radar he had, Solo supposed. Looking down at the dirt lane, he noticed tire tracks running on it but he paid it no mind since he figured it meant nothing. Without warning, Trowa began marching across the lane and into the woods on the other side, stopping and crouching a distance away from it, his hand resting on some grass that held no significance to the blond.

"What is it?" he asked as he came up from behind, Dorothy following in his tracks.

Trowa frowned for a second and answered, "Duo was right here. The plants remember it clearly."

"Well where did he go?" the blond demanded, a hint of excitement in his voice.

"I can't tell quite yet," Trowa said. "I getting some gossip of there being others around at the time but…" he paused as the wind blew gently against them but carried the unmistakable smell of smoke.

"What?" Solo looked up. "Ya smell that?"

"Most definitely," Trowa replied, standing up.

"C'mon," Solo said and rushed ahead, Trowa following behind. Dorothy, though, paused for a second and bent down to pick something up. Not wanting to get left behind, she took off after the other two, carrying the long, ropy object in one hand.

Solo crashed through the underbrush, unfazed by all the small branches and thorny bushes that happened to be in his way. Breaking through a large hedge that didn't seem to be natural in this kind of place, he stumbled into an extremely large clearing which held the smoking remains of what used to be the Noventa manor.

Coming out from behind, Trowa quipped, "I think you left a rosebush untrampled back there." Looking ahead, he fell silent immediately.

In no time, Dorothy arrived but said nothing having managed to see the see-through column of smoke through the Solo-shaped hole-in-the-hedge.

After a few minutes of tense silence, Dorothy was the first to speak up. "What do you think could've caused that?"

"Don't know," Trowa answered, "but it had to have been something big if this place was burned to the ground." Glancing to the girl, he asked, "Where'd you get that thing?"

Looking over at the girl, Solo's eyes widened slightly and he snatched the strange, brown-colored rope that the blonde girl had brought with her. Examining it for a minute, the blond spoke, "This is Duo's braid!"

"How do you know that?" Dorothy asked, wondering how Solo would know such a thing.

"Trust me, I seen 'um braid the damn thing and it looks exactly like this," Solo stated, taking his eyes off the braid. "Where'd ya find this?"

"Somewhere back there, when we stopped," Dorothy answered, gesturing back towards the woods.

"Why'd he cut it off?" Solo wondered aloud. "He loved da damn thing more than himself."

"Nothing's adding up," Trowa murmured aloud, a pondering expression on his face. "Duo was here, I'm sure of it. But when we get here, there's nothing left and no Duo."

"Meaning he ran away or was captured," Dorothy stated her suggestion.

"Can ya find where he is?" Solo questioned, his green, slowly changing into amber, eyes looking over that the other male.

"I can try," Trowa replied.

"Then do it," Solo ordered, leaving no room for argument or anything else.

"Fine," Trowa sighed and closed his eyes in concentration.

Having gotten used to all the strange habits that her companions partook in, Dorothy looked back towards Solo who was gripping the Duo-less braid tightly in both of his hands. He really did care about his friend, didn't he? After what she had heard they had been through, she wasn't surprised but seeing that kind of devotion…not even she had had that with Relena, her best friend in the whole wide world. In fact, she hadn't bothered to look for her this whole time, not since escaping that nightmare at the circus, and she had had plenty of opportunity to leave to go search for both Relena and Heero. She could've left a long time ago, but she hadn't and she didn't know why…

Yet here was Solo, looking for his best friend the second he found out he was missing and the intensity that he pursued this venture with was astounding. She didn't know whether or not to be jealous that Solo was doing this all for Duo or the fact it wasn't her he was looking for…

"Got something," Trowa spoke up, his eyes snapping open. "It's barely there but I know where he is."

"Then what da hell are ya waitin' for?" Solo spoke up. "Let's get a move on!"

"After me then," the unibanged young man said, turning towards what seemed to be a random direction only to be stopped as Solo grabbed his shoulder and pulled him back. Trowa gave the blond a quizzical look, wondering what Solo was doing since he was so impatient in finding his wayward friend.

"Can ya take us there faster than walkin'?" the blond demanded.

"I don't think so," Trowa stated blandly.

"Hey, ya burrowed ya way away from those assholes in the lab coats and I don't think ya stopped just outside of da place either," Solo said, amber eyes boring into Trowa's emerald.

"What makes you think I'm capable of transporting three people that way over a stretch of maybe a hundred if not two hundred miles?" Trowa demanded, becoming defensive.

"If ya could do it then, you can do it now," Solo said firmly. "You've had so much time ta get stronger. I think ya can do it."

Staring the blond down, Trowa looked away and sighed. "Alright, I'll give it a shot but don't get your hopes up."

"That's more like it," Solo smirked. "Knew ya would've seen it my way."

"Don't get a big head just yet," Trowa muttered as web-like roots slowly began to grow out of the ground and form a ball around them. The round, brown orb slowly sank into the earth, taking the three companions down into the bowls of the planet in which they lived on.

---

The majesty that was Washington D.C. was lost on Septum as he awaited the arrival of his militaristic peers. It was time for the unveiling of Project Maxwell and the General was more than enthused to show off his new weapons. He didn't have a full idea of what Xavien was planning but he needed not worry about opposition from certain sources.

Besides, if he got a resounding "nay" from his colleagues, he'd just "clean house" as his partner-in-crime suggested.

Currently, he was standing in the middle of a large circular room, surrounded by curved tables that formed rows similar to what could be found at a UN Council room or a University Auditorium-classroom. Behind him stood the black clad forms of the two weapons Xavien had sent to him. He had an idea of what their abilities were and had elected to call them by their names and not by the number ID that Xavien had sent with them.

The taller one was known as Brett Castle and according to his file and verbal confirmation, he had control over liquids. Both the file and Brett hadn't elaborated on it but the file did say that his specialties included assassination. Still, as long as Brett followed his orders, he could care less about what he was trained as.

The other one was known as Rex and the file on him was even more ambiguous than Brett's. According to it, and the boy as well, his power was "combustion," whatever that meant. He supposed it had something to do with fire or something close to that; otherwise, he had no clue as to what it meant.

The room was slowly filling as military personnel and high ranking politicians entered and leisurely walked down the steep stairs, dividing into the rows created by the curved tables and taking seats in the chairs positioned at equal intervals. The noise level was slowly rising, a pet peeve of Septum's that he disliked. Talking for just the sake of talking had never really been on his list of enjoyable things to do and was something that annoyed him.

Well, at least he could say that there wouldn't be any noise once he unveiled what these weapons could do.

A flash of white caught his eye and when he looked up, he nearly blanched. There standing in the doorway was none other than Admiral Noventa himself. But he thought Xavien had dealt with him already! Yeah, that was right; there was nothing he needed to be concerned about. Everything was already taken care of and all he needed to do was act, something he felt more comfortable with than anything.

Noventa's jovial boomed throughout the room, the acoustics working wonders for it as the Admiral said, "I hope that whatever it is that you're presenting, Septum, is worth me cutting my vacation short. My granddaughter was quite displeased that I had to leave so soon."

Chuckling nervously and pulling at the collar of his uniform, Septum answered, "I assure you, Admiral, that you will be more than compensated, that is if you will take a seat so we can get started…"

"No thank you, I'd prefer to stand," Noventa said, his eyes twinkling mirthfully.

"Of course…" Septum trailed off awkwardly, becoming slightly nervous as he became the center of attention. He conquer over his stage fright soon enough as he began, "I thank you all for coming on such short notice. Recently, there have been rumors about a weapons program called Project Maxwell and today I wish to clear up any disinformation about it that you may have."

That instantly got the reaction the General was looking for. He held power now and it was an addictive feeling that he never got tired of. Now was the time where all his patience for the past ten years paid off.

"As I have just confirmed, Project Maxwell is a weapons program that is designed to create the next generation of weapons should we ever engage in an armed conflict or, God forbid, a war. The Project itself was based on research done by one James Maxwell and from there, our knowledge has expanded to lengths that would not have been imaginable a decade ago.

"If you will now direct your attention behind me, allow me to introduce you to a sample of just what the fruits of this project are!"

With a flourish, he stepped to a side and directed all attention towards Rex and Brett, the General's colleagues gasping and exclaiming disbelief in his words.

"What is the meaning of this?!" an angry voice demanded, putting the ball back into Septum's court, just where he wanted it to be.

"These two boys, these _weapons_, are the results of Project Maxwell," he proclaimed to his captive audience, sounding more and more like Xavien than he would've liked. "Both have undergone the process and have completed the training required by the Project to become the newest weapons to be used at the military's disposal. Their very presence will change the battlefield in ways we could have never imagined yesterday and our enemies will never be able to take them and use them against us for their loyalty is to us and us alone. The possibilities are virtually limitless and we will show the entire world that the Unites States is not a nation that you mess with!"

The silence that followed that proclamation was short lived as the audience suddenly roared into a cacophony of noise. No one could understand what one person was saying as each one was raising their voice to be heard over the other one. Whether they were on Septum's side or against, the General did not know and his uncertainty was beginning to show through his flustered facial features.

From a section of the audience, it began to quiet down and spread to the rest and soon a clapping sound was audible to everyone. Much to everyone's surprise, the very person who was clapping was the last one any of them would have expected, including the General.

It was Noventa.

The Admiral was slowly making his way down the steps to where the General and the two Maxwellian weapons stood, his slow clap never wavering in the slightest.

As he stood before the General, the Admiral's voice boomed, "Well done General! You have certainly outdone yourself this time."

Unsure of this unexpected reaction, Septum replied, "Thank you…sir."

"How can you support this?!" a voice suddenly demanded from the peanut gallery. "This thing is hideous! Unethical!"

"It's the initiative we need if we are to keep the United States the most powerful nation on Earth," Noventa stated coolly in voice that didn't sound like his usual self and finally Septum caught on. Xavien hadn't lied when he said he would take care of the problem that Noventa had represented. This was just too sweet for him!

However, the rest of the people in the room didn't think so. In fact, when they began the cacophonous racket again, one could easily tell what they thought about this.

They didn't like it one bit.

At all.

Noventa didn't seem too happy about this reaction, though, and he suddenly snapped, "Rex! Do something about this already!"

The boy known to Septum as Rex nodded in agreement and his eyes changed from their dark hazel to a red-orange, the very color of fire itself. One of the unfortunate men who happened to be yelling the loudest suddenly burst into flames, his yelling voice turning into a high pitched shriek before vanishing completely as he turned into a pile of ash.

The silence was deafening and Septum blinked owlishly before it suddenly hit him. The boy's power of combustion…it was the ability to cause things to explode with intense heat no matter the distance. The boy's victim had literally spontaneously combusted and it was all due to him…

Noventa spoke up again, his voice grave. "You have all decided to be against this, I presume. It's people like you who make this nation weak but not for much longer. It's time we purged the poison you insignificant insects spew once and for all!"

Turning towards Septum and giving him a nod, the General nodded and ordered to the two Maxwellians, "Clean house boys!"

The two boys nodded eagerly in understanding. Turning his eyes towards the panicking crowd, a fiery light glowed from Rex's eyes and another person burst into flames, their scream short lived. Brett on the other hand was stalking towards the nearest person, his dark blue eyes changing into an inky black. With a jerk of his hand, a knife-like blade snapped out from under the cuff of his sleeve and with a quick slice, he cut off a Naval officer's lower arm. But the boy was far from finish as he took hold of the crimson red liquid spilling from the disarmed man with tendrils of his power. Then in a rush, all the man's blood came flooding out of him and forming a large bubble of blood hovering in midair while the man himself became withered from the loss of blood and collapsed into unconscious, slipping silently into death.

Brett wasn't done quite yet though; with a casual flick of the wrist, he shot the floating ball of blood to a new victim, the liquid snaking through the air like a snake and wrapping around a nearby woman. As she screamed in fright, the blood plunged down her throat, continuously filling her up until she ripped apart and all her internal liquids joined that of the invaded blood. From there the formless pass divided into two and searched out new prey, as per intention of Brett himself.

It was needless to say that anyone who was anyone was trying to get the hell out of dodge. That escape was cut off as they soon discovered the doors that were their only escape were locked. If only they had known that the man that they all respected, Noventa, had been the one that had locked them.

That was inconsequential as they crowded around the wooden barricade, all shoving against it, trying to force them to open. In their panic, a few unfortunates were crushed by their peers as their civility vanished in favor of flight, one that was permanently put to a halt as Brett sent tentacles of bodily fluids to block off the weakening doors and kill those closest to them.

Those that weren't torn apart by or drowned in the dangerous liquids were forced into combusting into flames that were absolutely unrelenting, burning those who were too close to them.

Slowly, the volume level in the room decreased until the last gurgle of life was either drowned out of them or turned to ash. Chuckling into the quiet, Septum took a few steps closer to the carnage, his eyes lightening with glee at the sight. Actually seeing the destruction caused by the Maxwellians was completely different from just looking at results of it, such as the example of that town out in Arizona.

No, Septum was sure that this was the beginning of a new era in warfare. Wait, let him correct himself; it was the beginning of a new era of humanity!

"I hope that we were up to your satisfaction, General," Noventa spoke up, approaching the General from behind.

"More than my wildest dreams," Septum answered truthfully, turning towards the Admiral.

An uncharacteristic smirk formed on Noventa's face, soon followed by a rippled all over his body as the man began to change, his stature shrinking somewhat as he assumed a different form.

The man-now-boy shifted his weight to a muscled leg, his hands planted firmly on his hips and his smirk now matching well with his incredibly handsome features and smiling green eyes that reminded the General of 12093. Oh there were differences to be sure, that this boy was actually slimmer and slightly shorter that 12093 and his confidence with himself was through the roof.

Cracking a crooked grin, the boy said, "Good. That is what we were sent here to do after all."

"And you have exceeded all my expectations," Septum replied. "To top it all off, your performance even reeled _me_ in. Er…you wouldn't happen to have a name, would you?"

Chuckling, the boy said, "Just call me Copy Chris."

---

"Are the preparations complete?" Xavien asked Malkov as he continued to sort through documents on his desk as Katsaris looked on.

"Yes, Mr. Xavien," Malkov intoned. "Everything is as you wished it. However, 15211 has requested to go along as well."

"15211?" Xavien said aloud, frowning slightly as he wracked his brain on who it was. "Oh, yes, that one. Hasn't he failed me already?"

"Yes he has," Malkov answered.

Xavien thought about it for a moment and then shrugged, "Why not? I guess having it go against 12093 was asking a bit too much. Besides, I doubt Romafellor will be expecting this so the more the merrier."

"As you wish, Mr. Xavien," Malkov said, leaving the office.

"What are you up to?" Katsaris demanded from where he sat, his eyes narrowing.

"Just a little surprise from our mutual thorn in the side," Xavien replied whimsically. "In fact, it's one that Romafellor himself is just _dieing_ for."

---

The ground parted and a ball of roots and branches emerged from the soil, unraveling to reveal the three individuals on the inside, two guys and a girl to be precise.

"Now that was cool!" Solo exclaimed, looking like a child who was just given a sweet piece of candy. "If we weren't busy, I'd ask if we could do it again!"

"Maybe later," Trowa said. "It was tiring doing that. I'll need some rest first before I can do anything else."

"If I never go through that again, it'll be too soon!" Dorothy added her two cents in, looking green at the gills from the experience.

"Grow some balls, will ya?" Solo said testily, eyeing the blonde girl.

"I'm a girl; I couldn't grow any if I could!" Dorothy retorted, half-glaring at the blond. "Besides, haven't you heard that women are the fairer sex?"

"Nope," Solo replied honestly. "By da way, that's the sorriest excuse I ever heard. Fair sex? If ya can sell it, there ain't nothing fair 'bout it."

"I don't think she was talking about intercourse," Trowa butted in, his shoulders trembling with suppressed mirth.

"Just a bunch of nonsense ta me," Solo shrugged as he looked forward and paused, a look of familiarity on his face at the sight.

Only a distance away he could see the sprawling metropolis that was Los Angeles, California, the towering skyscrapers casting sinister shadows over the city, a symbol of the wealthy elite's power over the poor.

"Never thought I'd see this 'gain," he said solemnly.

"Are you saying you came from here?" Dorothy asked, looking towards the blond.

"Naw, it was some place called Seattle," Solo said, "but once ya seen one of them, you've seen all of them. Now if Trowa can figure out where Duo is in all that, I'll be able to get ta him in no time flat."

"Sorry, can't," Trowa sighed, his exhaustion palpable in his voice. "I can't…get a lock on anything in all that. There's hardly any plantlife in there as it is.

"Then we'll have ta do it the ol' fashion way," Solo said, his eyes hardening on the sight of Los Angeles.


	24. Lost Souls

Disclaimer: I do not own Gundam Wing.

Warning: language, violence

Lost Souls

_Kid Duo found himself surrounded in darkness, trapped deep within the darkest corner of his mind and unable to do anything to get out of it. He had done everything he could think of: scream, throwing a tantrum, tell some dirty jokes Solo had told him, anything that could get him out of here._

_But it was all for naught; he was stuck right here wherever he was and it didn't seem like he would be getting out of here any time soon._

_He had exhausted himself into submission by now and had curled himself into a ball, or at least the mental image of himself since it couldn't be said that he was physically solid. Being trapped in your own mind was such a bitch…at least that what he thought Solo would say if he were in the same predicament._

"_It's about time you shut up," he heard his darker self, Reaper mutter, the other personality "sitting" next to the mentally immature kid. "Was beginning to wonder when you were gonna run out of steam."_

"_Shut up," Kid muttered into his arms. "Least I'm trying ta do something than sit here."_

"_And you think I haven't tried my luck?" Reaper said incredulously. "If I could have gotten out of here, I would've done it a long time ago, Kid."_

"_Ya didn't even try!" Kid grumbled at the other, refusing to look at him._

"_Ain't gonna do us any good if we're at each other's throats," Reaper sighed._

"_If ya had come out earlier, we wouldn't be here in da first place!" Kid snapped._

_Reaper looked as if he was going to retort but stopped and sighed again. "Goddamn it, can't argue with that."_

"_Bet Solo wouldn't've gotten caught like that," Kid continued to grumble. "He woulda punch that guy's lights out da minute he saw him."_

"_I didn't notice you were trying the same thing," Reaper retorted._

"_That's 'cause you're da tough one," Kid snarked. "I'm weak and we both know it."_

"_Not arguing with that one either," Reaper said, receiving a full on glare from the other boy. "What? It's the truth!"_

"_Why don't'cha shut up?" Kid sighed and turned his back to his other._

"_And do what?" Reaper challenged. "We're in a place that no one can reach us and we can't get out of. What else am I suppose to do? It's boring here!"_

"_Ya can think of a way ta get out of here!" Kid erupted, uncurling from his ball and actually had enough guts to lay a punch on Reaper's cheek. While no pain was actually felt since neither were connected to their brain's senses, Reaper was nevertheless taken aback by the unexpected action and fell back from the other. "You're suppose ta be the smart one, da tough one, da know-it-all! I'm weak, stupid, an'…an'…whatever else I am! If anybody can get us out of here, it's you and don't give me any shit that ya can't 'cause we both know it's a fuckin' lie!"_

"_Well sorry to burst your little bubble but I don't know how to get out of here!" Reaper roared back. "We're as stuck as we're ever going to be and sooner or later we're gonna be destroyed because Xavien doesn't like us! What the fuck do you want me to say? I don't know what that nun told you but nothing ends with happily ever after, you little shit!"_

"_Don't ya talk 'bout Sister Helen like that!" Kid yelled back._

"_Oh, let me guess, she's God now right? She can't be wrong, at all!" Reaper retorted sarcastically with a nasty edge in his voice. "Well guess what, she's wrong! That's right, I said it! It needed to be said! I like her just as much as you do but even I know that she isn't some perfect person!"_

"_SHUT UP!" Kid yelled, covering his ears with his hands._

"_You know that won't help you not hear me," Reaper stated. "We're the same person in the same mind. I can say anything I want and you'll hear me as if I was right next to you and you know it! Why won't you grow a spine or better yet, GROW UP!? This little act of yours, trying to act like a fucking child is getting annoying already!"_

_By now, Kid was crying, "hearing" every single word his other said and tried with all his might to ignore it._

"_Oh what now? You trying to ignore me or something?" Reaper said sardonically. "It won't work; you know it, I know it, hell, everybody knows it! Face it, Kid, we're gonna be stuck with one another for a long, long time if we're not deleted like some fucking computer file first."_

"_Leave me 'lone," Kid sobbed, curling back up into a ball._

"_Ok, I'll leave you alone, but I'm not going anywhere either," Reaper snarked. "Who are you trying to fool anyway? Everybody around you or just yourself? You ain't innocent, not one single inch. You're more intelligent that you let on but you just don't want to have to do anything. That's why you created me, created that other us, in the first place! You've never wanted to take responsibility for anything, never wanted to feel unpleasant in any way. I don't know what the hell Solo sees in you! He'd be better off without you clinging to his side, you know."_

"_No…" Kid denied, his balled-up body trembling with sobs. "No…"_

"_You know what, maybe I will shut up," Reaper sneered as he turned away and began to fade into the darkness of their mind. "Since you don't want to face truth or anything that might challenge your 'perfect' existence, I'll leave you alone. In fact, that's all you'll be for now on. Alone and by yourself, just like Xavien wanted in the first place. Maybe now you'll be fucking happy."_

_And then Kid was all alone, trapped with only himself and no one to talk with, to keep him company, nothing. The cold chilled him and the boy could only feel sorry for himself as he sought to bury himself further into the darkness, never wanting to see the light again._

---

The young boy strummed the strings of his lute with a prodigal skill, the sound of the song he was playing soothing yet upbeat at the same time. Each vibration of the pulled taunt strings was carefully planned ahead of time yet the way the boy performed one would think that he was making it up as he went.

This impression would definitely hold true as the boy had his eyes closed, his thin head rocking gently, keeping his beat constant. Long fingers treated the string instrument as if it was the most delicate object in existence, the instrument itself held in thin arms that balanced it against a just as thin body that at first looked didn't seem to hold any muscle at all. The boy only slowed his playing down, not stopped it, as he tossed his head, throwing long golden locks out of his face, the long strands of hair settling on his back for the moment. Firm and pouty lips voiced soundless words, as if the boy was singing a song known only to himself, one that few if any people ever heard.

To see such a sight was not a particularly strange sight but the fact that he was playing inside a large metal container where hardly any light shined into. Every now and then, the container would bounce and shake, causing the boy to lose his place and have to pick the song up quickly, all the wild throwing a glare in a seemingly random direction, revealing bright green that would remain open for about a minute until he closed them again and delved back into the hidden intricacies of his music.

Occasional interruption aside, Stone Sunbeam was content, both in mind and in body, doing the one thing he enjoyed doing since he could first play an instrument.

However, Stone wasn't just any musician, far from it. Through music, he could channel his psionic abilities and accomplish anything that he wanted. The almost mystical talents he possessed were virtually limitless if he put his mind to it but he was a very relaxed child, one that wasn't in a hurry to do anything thought he wasn't lazy, not one bit.

Currently, Stone was on assignment, a simple one to be precise. Through his music, he was casting a "sleeping spell" of sorts on his nearby "roommate" if you could call it that. His job was to make sure that the other person in this container remain practically comatose and until they had arrived at their destination where he would then be unleashed.

Cracking open an eye for a second to take a look at his roomie, he inwardly shuddered at the sight of the creature once known as Sigmund.

He did not envy the guys who were about to be paid a visit by this guy, no sirree.

---

Trowa hated the city, especially the one he now found himself in. The concrete jungle that was surrounding them all, it was so suffocating and so…dead. Yeah, that was the word; the plantlife that had once resided here had been mowed over and destroyed to make way for the progress of civilization.

However, in the section of Los Angeles that the group found their selves in, civilization didn't look as glamorous as everyone made it out to be. Then again, maybe that was because they were in the ghettos, practically every flat surface available a paint-cover billboard of graffiti that Solo was eyeing critically and as if the nonsense designs made sense to him.

It was all gibberish to Trowa and, from the looks of it, Dorothy. Already, the unibanged young man wanted out of here and not because they may have been on the "wrong side of the tracks" but because the sense of death that permeated every stone structure was starting to overwhelm him.

"Okay, Trowa, which way do we go?" Solo suddenly asked as he stopped at a corner, his eyes darting from side to side as if searching out for unseen predators that might be lurking.

Sighing as the toll the city was taking on him seemed even more oppressive, he said, "Give me a minute." Closing his eyes, he concentrated and search for any sign of plant life that could at least brighten up this bleak landscape. There wasn't much to find as this was certainly not one of the wealthier sections of the city. Expanding his awareness here was even more of a challenge since there were no nearby plants to support and ease the strain that result from doing this.

In fact, the strain he was experiencing was great, almost as great as when he first began using his powers all those years ago. Suddenly, like sonar, he got a ping from somewhere near the city's center, a wealthy spot to be sure as there were some plant there. Focusing on this oasis, he questioned the life he found there, given samples of the lifeforce that the wildlife in Arizona had identified to be uniquely Duo and after what maybe been hours but were only a few minutes, he got something.

Practically collapsing onto his knees, he gasped aloud. "He's that way," he pointed in what seemed to be a random direction. "I don't know where precisely he is but he's that way."

"'Bout time," Solo muttered, eyeing the unibanged young man with a little concern but more worried about where they were. He had grown up in a place similar to this and he wanted to get moving quickly before they attracted the wrong sort of attention.

Unfortunately, about a block away that attention found them, much to Solo's displeasure. It was a street gang, the blond could tell by the colors they would and the way they walked. Five in total, he could see that these guys were predators and the way they were eyeing them meant that they were going to "investigate" the newcomers who had the audacity to trespass on their turf.

"Heads up," he muttered to his two companions as he halted in his tracks, Trowa and Dorothy copying him all the same.

"Hey sweet thing!" one of them catcalled to Dorothy, initiating the "negotiations" that were to occur, one that would inevitable end in either threats or violence.

Solo was leaning more towards violence this time around.

And no, it wasn't because Dorothy had shuddered in disgust at the greeting; he really could care less about that. No, it was memories of being young and being forced to be a victim by assholes like these that was igniting the fire that was coursing through his veins. He'd try to rein it in, if only to keep a low profile, but with each passing second he was loosing the battle. Not that he was trying hard in the first place, mind you.

"Haven't see yous around here 'fore," one of the gang members said, his eyes holding a predatory glint in them. "I guessin' you're newbies, aight?"

"We don't want trouble," Solo said, holding his hands up in the universal sign of surrender. "We ain't gonna be here long anyway."

"That's what you think," another gang member said, smirking and coming around so that he was being them. "This our turf here, ya know?"

"Hey, we ain't here for our health, ya know," Solo stated, clenching his teeth together as Trowa and Dorothy watched him with no little surprise. Neither of them had seen him try to be this diplomatic before since he usually charge in with fists flying. Goes to show how much they knew about city life. "We'll be outta ya hair soon enough. Just passin' through."

"Yous not in any hurry, are yas?" the leader said. Before Solo could answer, the leader said, "Well if ya wanna get around here, yous gotta pay the toll, ya know?"

Solo narrowed his eyes. "What toll? I thought this was public property."

"Oh it's public, aight," another member jested. "We're the public and you're on our property."

"What do ya want," Solo demanded, close to losing it. They didn't have time for this shit!

"Just yer wallets," the leader replied, pulling out a gun, a cop killer variety if Solo recalled correctly. The one behind them had pulled out a gun of his own while one other took out a switchblade, the other two just standing back and watching gleefully. "And maybe that girl of yours," the leader continued, eyeing Dorothy and licking his lips.

Perfect, they would have the luck to run into a group of would-be rapists.

"Sorry, but she ain't for sale," Solo stated, lowering his arms and clinching his hands into fists.

"Did I say you had any choice?" the leader snarked and pointed his gun right at the blond's forehead.

Solo's hand snapped up and grabbed the gun's barrel, twisting and distorting it so that it was point back at the gang leader, said leader's eyes wide at the feat. Quick as a snake, Solo let go of the ruined gun and grabbed the other's wrist, twisting it sharply and shattering all the bones in it, nearly tearing the guy's hand off in the process.

"Fuck!" the leader shouted as he pulled himself away from Solo. "Cap his ass!"

There were a few gunshots and Dorothy screaming at the sound but Solo remained standing. Shaking his body slightly, bullet shrapnel fell off his body, no signs of blood or anything showing where they might've hit. As the gang member stared with bulging eyes at him, Solo whipped his arm out and slammed him into the wooden fence they were right next to, the gang member going through the wooden barrier and right into a Rottweiler that had been snarling at them for some time.

"Solo," Trowa warned, stepping aside to show that the guy with the knife was attempting to hold Dorothy hostage by holding the blade against her knife.

Solo paid no attention to what he was saying as he already was right in front of the two before the guy could even finish his threat. Solo took hold of the sharp blade and pulled it away from Dorothy's neck, squeezing down on it and bending it out of proportion. Pushing the blonde girl out of the way, he grabbed the guy by the neck and held him up high in the air, nearly throttling him.

Hearing footsteps running away, he looked up to see the other two gang members running away like the cowards they were. Using the guy in his hands as he projectile, he threw him right into the fleeing gang members, the three all making close friends with the sidewalk. Not done yet, Solo leapt high up into the air and let himself land ass first right on top of the pile, three screams of pain ripping out of their throats before they all fell into unconsciousness.

Getting back up to his feet, he smirked wickedly at the remaining gang leader who was trying his best to get away only to not get very far as Trowa delayed him. Solo was right behind the leader in an instant and he spun the leader around and picked him up by his shoulders.

"C'mon man!" the leader half-whined, half–whimpered. "It was just a joke! We's was only kiddin'!"

"Really?" Solo deadpanned. "Well, let me tell you that I'm gonna ram your ass into this car right here and I just want ta let ya know that _I'm_ kidding."

Not giving the guy a chance to say anything, Solo did exactly as he said and slammed the guy right into the car right next to him, the car sliding out into the middle of the street due to the force of the body slamming into it. Not a second later, the car was rear-ended and Solo winced at the sound of metal hitting metal.

"Done?" Trowa inquired not looking as if he regretted letting Solo beat the gang members up.

"Not yet," Solo replied. "That was just an appetizer. Now where was Duo 'gain?"

"After me," Trowa said, taking the lead as the blond followed.

Coming after them was a shaken up Dorothy who was clutching at her throat, the memory of the knife pressed there at the forefront of her mind. Walking around the pile of unconscious gang members, she grimaced at the sight of how easy the other two were dealing with this.

She really needed to get her head checked out; it couldn't be healthy hanging around these two all the time.


	25. The Bastion of Greed and Power

Disclaimer: I do not own Gundam Wing.

Warning: language, violence, death

The Bastion of Greed and Power

The headquarters of the Romafellor Corporation was a massive skyscraper in the heart of Los Angeles, its distinctive logo of a red "R" and "C" intertwined with one another encased in a thin red circle perched near the top of the building ruled the sky in all its stolidity. The building itself cast a shadow over the metropolis, it's shadow moving around the city like it was a sundial and it was here that the seat of power that was Romafellor resided.

Across from the building itself, a few other buildings had cranes and construction equipment, each vying to reach and surpass the height of the Romafellor Building. That those was slowly being accomplished since the operator of the Romafellor Corporation had made a noise complaint and, because of his clout, the construction had to go slower since the financers of said construction wanted it to continue. Little by little these skyscrapers were reaching for the sky, their metal skeletons open to all who wanted to see them.

Back to the Romafellor building, if one were to enter the lobby through the front main entrance, they would find themselves entering an enormous room that was several stories high and covered with a marble veneer that spoke volumes of the wealth that had been put into it. Various sculptures, artworks, and plants, be they potted or not, decorated about two stories worth of wall and the rest was either inlaid with gold or left plain by veneer. It was needless to say that this one room was more majestic than any wondrous sight one could see in the rest of the world.

High above the ground floor was a dome of glass that was the lobby's ceiling and from there anyone in the offices on the higher floors could look down through it at the lobby and watch the various peoples going to and fro, doing their jobs that made the Romafellor Corporation an international powerhouse.

Standing behind a rail that prevented employees from accidentally falling onto the glass ceiling and falling to their death stood Mr. Romafellor himself, the stern man looking down and watching the ant-sized humans scurrying about in his lobby. Even from all the way up here, Romafellor could admire all the diligence and attentiveness that had been put into his pride and joy; from the large fountain where a marble replica of the Equestrian Statue of Marcus Aurelius stood at attention above the water and acting as a sentry, watching even single person who entered with blank eyes; to the Hellenistic columns and friezes of Greek mythology that circled lobby and helped to prop up the elaborate staircase that took a person up to the third floor easily.

It was the pinnacle of all his success and he never failed to stop and look down at it all every single day.

As much as he wanted to remain where he was, he had a board meeting to get to, one that was decide what they were to do with their Project Maxwell specimen. Romafellor already knew what he wanted to do, it was just convincing the rest to go along with it and that was easier done than said, fortunately for him. He may be an old man but none could say he had lost his edge yet. Every once in a while, he had to deal with a young upstart that though he/she could do a better job than him and he would tear them down and apart before they even finished what they were saying.

It was never a question if he was in charge or not. He would retain his position for a long time if he had it his way.

It was time to get back to business though and he couldn't keep his board members waiting for him, now could he?

---

Hearing the door handle on the door that led into their prison, Heero and Relena looked up to see who it was that had decided to grace them with their almighty presence. Heero looked on with fury while Relena backed away and tried to make herself smaller as she watched their visitor with no little fear.

It seemed like Tsubarov was paying them a little visit.

"What do you want now?" Heero demanded, his hands clenched tightly into fists. "Is there something we have left that you can't help but want to take too?"

"And here I thought we could have a pleasant conversation," Tsubarov sneered in his deep, throaty baritone as he took a seat in one of the chairs that lined the long board table.

"Last time we had a 'pleasant conversation' with you, you kidnapped the both of us and took me away from my parents," Heero growled, restraining himself from attacking this man. He remembered too well what had happened last time and he was in no mood for a repeat of that.

"It was nothing personal," Tsubarov shrugged. "When you live in the world I live in, you have to take advantage of whatever comes your way."

"Like we would ever do something like that," Heero uttered, his voice full of malice.

"Think what you will, anybody in my shoes would have done the same thing," Tsubarov replied, waving the matter away.

"No one is as much as a bottom feeder as you are," Relena spoke up for the first time, daring to attract the man's ire to her. "What's the real reason why you're here? Your type doesn't do things like this without a good reason."

Tsubarov glared at her but then began to chuckle. "Very perceptive of you," Tsubarov applauded, mock-clapping his hands at her. "Mr. Romafellor ordered me here," he explained.

"What does he want now?" Heero demanded.

"Currently, he's in a meeting, going over what to do with that dead weight of a friend of yours. He's wants me to be with you in case he wants your bright personalities to grace his board of directors," Tsubarov answered snidely.

"Haven't we given enough already?!" Heero snarled. "We've lost our homes, our friends, our families, and now our freedoms! What more do you want, our lives?!"

"Now that you mention it…" Tsubarov trailed off, considering Heero's words.

"You can't keep us here forever," Heero stated furiously.

"I would've thought you'd have learn by now, we can do exactly that," Tsubarov replied, smirking at the teen. "Life ain't fair and only those who have power can have freedom. You don't have any power here and you'll stick around until Mr. Romafellor has no further use for you."

"And when's that going to be?" Heero questioned angrily.

"Who knows?" Tsubarov shrugged. "There are things going on that are even beyond _my_ comprehension but if I can get something out of it, I'll do whatever it takes. If keeping an eye on you gets me in good with Mr. Romafellor, so be it."

"You won't be able to get away with this," Relena said with as much defiance as she could muster. "People will find out about this—"

"And do what?" Tsubarov interrupted. "This company has done far worse in the past and no one's made a big deal of them. Sure, they might be upset but they'll forget as soon as something shiny catches their attention and we'll be off the hook. This is reality, brat. This isn't some crappy story that you could find on the internet. Besides, what kind of moron would even want to read such a thing?"

(Pausing, the three characters peered through the fourth wall and eyed the readers currently reading this fic strangely.)

"This is for keeps," Tsubarov continued, turning to look back at the teens, "and you just happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time. Too bad for you but perfect for me."

Growling, Heero raised his fists and took a step towards the ugly businessman, said businessman standing up from his seat and towering over the Japanese youth, anticipating a fight coming his way.

"Don't Heero," Relena spoke quietly from behind. "Please don't…"

Continuing to glare at Tsubarov, Heero stepped down but he never took his eyes off the man. He wanted so much to beat the living shit out of this man but he recalled all too clearly the last time he had taken him on.

"Fucking pussy," Tsubarov taunted. "That little bitch has you wrapped around her finger, doesn't she? Women will do that to you if you let them, the little bloodsuckers."

"Don't you fucking talk about her like that!" Heero snarled.

"What are you going to do about it?" Tsubarov sneered. "Here I am; I'm waiting."

When Heero did nothing, Tsubarov added, "Just what I thought, you little pansy. Like father like son. Shame I couldn't have been there to see your folks get whacked. Would've known if he was a coward then."

Heero's fists clenched even tighter and his body shook with suppressed rage. He wanted nothing more than to kill this bastard right here and there but now wasn't the time, not when Tsubarov had the upper hand.

He'd get his dues, he would make sure of that.

---

"This is it?" Solo whistled as he leaned his head back to get a better look at the gigantic building.

"As best as I can tell, Duo's in there," Trowa replied, just as awed as his compatriot but managing to keep it from showing.

"Romafellor," Dorothy whispered in awe.

"You know about them?" Trowa asked, looking over at the blonde girl.

"They're, like, one of the largest companies in the world!" the girl explained.

"Don't really give a shit," Solo said, cracking his knuckles and getting a few looks from passing-by, well-dressed bystanders. "If they have Duo, then I guess we're gonna have ta pay them a house call."

Without waiting for a reply, the blond stepped out into the street, heading direction for the main entrance. However there was a large bus in the middle of the road when Solo stepped out onto it and it was on a collision course with him. So intent on his mission, Solo didn't acknowledge the large vehicle until after it had slammed into him. Instead of flying off, the blond remained where he was as the front of the bus contorted around him and the vehicle stopped altogether. Behind the bus, the cars that had been following it from behind crashed into it and each other, the sounds of screeching tires audible even over the overbearing city sounds.

Prying himself out of the wreckage, Solo shoved the bus away from him, which had the added effect of pushing the cars behind the bus back, and simultaneous crashing sounds could be heard a ways down the road.

Coming up behind the blond, Trowa said, "Perhaps it would've been better had you looked both ways before you crossed the road."

"Ain't my fault they're bad drivers," Solo replied as he resumed his death march into Romafellor's headquarters.

Shaking his head at the stubborn blond, Trowa followed after, Dorothy on his heels and rubbernecking at the damage that had been caused by Solo just crossing the street.

Solo pushed open the glass doors that blockaded his way into the building and he kept on going, not bothering to slow down as he went through the security's metal detectors. There wasn't a beeping sound so Solo assumed he was in the clear but apparently someone else thought differently.

"Hey! Stop right there!" a security guard commanded, loosening his gun holster visibly to intimidate the blond. It didn't work though Solo did stop moving to turn around and grab the guard by the front of his shirt. Using his strength, he threw the guard back, the helpless man flying through the air until he slammed against his fellow guard who had started to make his way over to the scene.

The commotion that resulted with a group of security guards coming out of the framework, their guns pulled out of their holsters and all aimed at the blond who raised an eyebrow at the sight.

"You guys are fast," he commented, not showing any signs of backing down.

"Get your hands up and drop to your knees!" a guard roared at him, clicking the safety off his gun.

While Solo was ready to bash some skulls open, he didn't get the chance as all the potted plants in the lobby came to life, their roots bursting out of their pots and tangling around the guards' guns and breaking them into pieces. Turning towards Trowa who seemed to look marginally better now that there was some actual green nearby, Solo accused, "Show off." Ignoring the screams of the other people as he turned back to the guards who were becoming entangled in plant roots.

Rolling his eyes, he approached one guard and grabbed him by the front of his shirt, bringing him up to his face so he could see eye to eye with him. "Okay pal," the blond said, "I'm only gonna ask this once: where's Duo?"

"What?" the guard said back, his eyes flicking upwards for a second though his confusion was still noticeable.

Frowning, Solo looked up and whistled at the sight of the glass ceiling that was high above. "Nice," the blond commented before looking back down at the helpless guard. "Is somebody here tryin' ta compensate for something?"

The guard could only shrug helplessly, his eyes latching onto something happening behind the blond. Looking behind, Solo snorted as he saw more guards storming into the room. "Welcomin' committee, huh? Gotta welcome them, I guess."

In the blink of an eye, Solo had launched himself towards the incoming guards, his body leaning down as his shoulder rammed a guard in his gut and sent him flying back to slam against the unforgiving wall. Spinning on the heel of his foot, Solo swung his other leg in ah arch and kicked into another guard who was thrown into the nearby information booth, two women employees' screams crying out as the man landed in their vicinity. Pushing up with his legs, Solo jumped high into the air, flipping backwards and landing on the marble stairs to intercept mob of guards who were thundering down them.

Like a bowling ball hitting bowling pins, Solo rushed into the group, clotheslining them all and causing them to either fall and roll down the stairs or topple off the stairs' side railings and plunge down to the floor below.

Walking up the steps at his own pace, Trowa approached Solo from behind, oblivious to the moaning of the falling guards who hadn't gotten up from their trip down the stairs. Raising an eyebrow, he commented, "You haven't lost your touch."

"These guys are just a bunch of pussies," Solo grumbled back, looking around for others to take out. Amber eyes picking out an elevator door that was opening and letting out more guards, he smirked. "Now that's more like it."

As Solo threw himself at the guards, Trowa sighed to himself. "I guess that means we're going up."

---

The dock foreman, or in this case forewoman, frowned as a large truck back its way towards her, that incredibly annoying beeping sound not ceasing in the slightest until it came to a stop.

It wasn't the fact that there was a truck here, it was the fact that this one wasn't expected. There was a schedule set up and it was strictly kept. She was going to have to identify when it was suppose to arrive and send them away to come back at the predetermined time. Mr. Romafellor was finicky like that but she wasn't about to question the direct orders from the man signing her paycheck. Her frown deepened, though, as she caught sight of the driver, a man she had never seen before as he made his way up onto the docking platform and began to open up the back of the truck trailer.

"Hey!" she called out, powerwalking over to the guy. "Who the hell are you?" she demanded.

"Just delieverin' something," the man said, sliding the door to the trailer open.

"And might that be?" she said. "No one is suppose to be coming right now and we're expecting some specific stuff. If you don't have it, you're just gonna have to leave…"

She trailed off as the sound of calming music reached her ears. She stared ahead at the trailer and watched in astonishment as a small boy of perhaps eleven years of age emerged from the darken metal chamber, playing an odd-looking instrument effortlessly. It took about a minute for her to realize what she was seeing and despite the upturned corners of the boy's mouth which was charming her a bit, she looked up at the truck driver irritably.

"What is the meaning of this?!" she demanded. "Why is there a little boy in there and why would you even not check that he was in there! He could have died!"

Speaking over the music, the boy said innocently, "I'm not hurt at all. It's all right."

Despite the calming music, the woman snapped, "No it's not! This is child maltreatment!"

"I was only keeping my friend company," the boy said, looking up at her with large eyes, his fingers not plucking at the strings to his instrument anymore.

"You mean there's someone else in there?!" she nearly shrieked, starting to attract the attention of her fellow coworkers who were beginning to wander over to see what the commotion was.

"Yeah, he's right in there," the boy confirmed, gesturing towards the opened trailer.

Despite the alarms in her head screaming at her not to, she stomped her way towards the trailer and looked into it, squinting her eyes to try and see better into the darkness. "Are you okay in there?" she called out.

She could here someone moving, someone big. There was the sound of metal clinking together and then silence. Suddenly, an enormous hand shot out and grabbed her entire head, the large palm muffling her screams as she was pulled into the trailer, vanishing into the darkness.

There was a small bit of ruckus before it all went silent inside. Slowly a large form began to emerge, a low growling sound indicating that the creature coming out was ticked off and ready to shed some blood real soon…


	26. Infiltrating Romafellor's Stronghold

Disclaimer: I do not own Gundam Wing.

Warning: language, violence, death

Infiltrating Romafellor's Stronghold

With the lush green scenery of California passing by them, two helicopters, both carrying several armed men, tore through the air leaving only their telltale chopping noise behind them.

Neither of these aircraft had friendly intent as they headed straight towards the city of Los Angeles to join with the rest of the rest of their kind, most of which were owned by local news stations that were either reporting on a break story like a car chase or reporting on traffic conditions. Traversing the over the large metropolis of a city, the aircraft headed straight towards one of the largest buildings in the city, one that had a very distinctive logo on it.

It was almost too easy, really.

---

Romafellor's eyes gleamed as they traveled over his Board of Directors listened to his every word like the puppets that they were, hanging on each one of them as if they were holy gospel. The business tycoon was truly in his element as he sat back down, the last of his soft voice disappearing into the applause that the board members were giving him. There was no doubt in his mind what he and the company was going to do next; whatever the will of Romafellor was was the will of the Romafellor Corporation. It can even be said that the two were one and the same.

Even as he enjoyed the attention, his thoughts drifted back to where the Maxwell boy was and his condition. Taking samples of his tissues and bodily fluids would be simple enough as it was but getting anything else would be a problem until he woke up from his comatose state. His medical staff and personnel would work day and night until the boy's consciousness was attained and there would be no rest for the wicked until then.

A small red light emitting from an intercom embedded in the long boardroom table caught Romafellor's attention, alerting him to the fact that someone was either trying to reach him or one of the board members. As far as odds went, it would most likely be for him. As timing went, it was not the best of times and that served to irritate the businessman to no end, especially when he was on the verge of triumph.

Pressing the button, he said into the com, "What is it?"

Instead of hearing the timid voice of a secretary, he instead received the hesitant yet deep voice of the head of security alerting him that there were some intruders in the building.

Intruders? That certainly silenced the boardroom but Romafellor was far from amused. What did the man mean there were intruders? "Show me," he ordered into the com and spun his revolving chair around to look at the row of monitors peeking out from the wall.

In one screen, he saw a long haired teenager beating the living hell out of his security and no matter what his employees did, they were dispatched without the teen loosing any steam. Near this teen were two other young adults, one a man and the other a girl. What was special about them was that Romafellor recognized some of the plants that encircled them belonged in the lobby but were busy following this trio around.

Looking into another monitor, he just barely missed something that was huge that had passed by the camera but he was just in time to see three boys enter the screen, one of which noticing the camera and shooting _something_ into it. On the other monitors, there displayed the images of where the intruders had been and none of it was pretty. His lobby was a mess, something that ticked the businessman off, and the docking bay was utterly destroyed.

There was no doubt in his mind that what he was seeing were the products of Project Maxwell and that they were here for something or someone, that someone more than likely being him.

He had expected some form of retaliation from Xavien but not _this_.

A low humming sound soon caught his attention and slowly he turned his head to look at the floor-to-ceiling windows, seeing nothing but clear skies and the construction site of a nearby building. Not looking away, a helicopter soon came into sight and he watch dispassionately as several men in the copter held submachine guns, all of which were loaded and ready to fire.

Not saying anything and ignoring the screams and shouts from his board members, he spun his chair around and shoved himself out of it and onto the floor just as a barrage of bullets shattered the glass and entered the room.

Romafellor laid on the floor, his arms covering his head as the loud sounds of gunfire filled the room. He could hear bullets impacting the table but the large piece of furniture held up against the rain of small projectiles. More gunfire was soon introduced as his security rushed into the room and began to return fire at the helicopter, not getting many shots off as a few of them were mowed down before they could get a shot off.

Looked as if Xavien was serious this time, Romafellor mused to himself. Another assassination attempt, as if he would allow himself to go out like this! When there was a lull in the gunfire, he began to drag himself towards the doors, the table keeping him from view of the helicopter.

---

Heero perked up as he swore he could have heard guns being fired off and he looked towards the doors curiously. He kept an eye on Tsubarov who had currently been saying something when the unmistakable noise reached them and the ugly man frowned as he got up and head towards the doors. Opening them slightly, he began conferring with the guards outside, his back to Heero and Relena who watched him.

Seeing this as a chance to escape, Heero picked up one of the revolving, wheeled chairs and hefted it over his shoulder. Making his way over to Tsubarov, he waited until the man had finished speaking to the men outside and closed the door. As soon as the larger man began to turn around, Heero struck with the chair, getting Tsubarov right in the middle of his face and stunning him.

Gritting his teeth, Heero rammed the chair forward again and forced Tsubarov's head back into the door harshly, causing the man to crumple to the floor where Heero smashed him one more time with the chair and kicked him in the head for good measure, making sure that he was unconscious.

Working quickly, he dragged the unconscious man out of the way of the door, ignoring the bleeding gash on the man's forehead that had resulted from the unexpected blunt force trauma. Releasing Tsubarov, Heero beckoned towards Relena with a hand, silently telling her to come to him which she did without question.

"Time to get the hell out of here," Heero murmured to the girl as he dragged her out the guardless door and out into the hallways in search of their freedom.

---

"Beautiful," Pike nearly whistled as he entered the main lobby of the Romafellor building, his eyes planted firmly on the marble replica atop the fountain. Ignoring Stone and their scaly companion, he approached the statue, heedless of the fountain water that drenched his uniform up to his knees. Climbing up the thin column that held the statue above the fountain itself, he eyed it critically, nearly sighing in disappointment. "This isn't the original," he muttered, his fingertips lightly sliding down the sides of the statue.

"Freak," the scaly one uttered, looking away from the art fan in disgust.

"I'm not a freak for admiring the beauty of manmade sculptures, Astaroth," Pike said aloud, startling the other. "At least I can appreciate someone else's hard work and effort unlike you."

"Like I would want to look at some dumb carved rocks," Astaroth said snarkily.

The pitter patter of running feat caught Astaroth's attention as he looked towards several security guards approaching them, their guns held out and ready to be used. Pike, however, was oblivious to it as he continued his inspection of the Marcus Aurelius. Stone, though, had put his lute down and was starting to play on a small harmonica that he had brought along with him.

The psionic he emitted froze the security guards in their places; not a single one could twitch or move their bodies with the exceptions of their eyes that were snapping from side to side in panic.

Smirking, Astaroth said, "Ripe for the picking."

"Not so fast," Stone spoke up, removing his harmonica from his mouth. "We gotta find out where that guy the bossman wants us to kill first and these guys oughta know."

"Mr. Romafellor," Pike piped up, not turning around for a second.

"Yeah, that Mr. Romafellor guy," Stone added, walking towards the captured guards. Playing a few notes on his harmonica, he lessened the hold he had on a guard he was approaching, enabling him to use his vocal cords so it could answer the boy's question. "Do you know where we can find Mr. Romafellor?" Stone asked the man, giving him a winning smile.

"What are you?" the guard managed to say, looking with horror at the boy.

"Well that's not good," Stone pouted and played one more note on his harmonica. In response, the man's head exploded in a splatter of brain, bones, and blood. "How about you?" he asked another guard, loosening his hold.

"Thirty-sixth floor," the man gasped out.

"Thank you," Stone chirped and blew this one's head up as well. Looking back towards Astaroth, he said, "They're all yours!"

"Now you're talking," Astaroth growled as he grew spikes out of his scaly body and approached helpless guards to bestow on them his own brand of "fun."

Pike, meanwhile, had not taken his eyes off the Marcus Aurelius and was only now beginning to take hold of the energies that was running through it. His hands spasmed and with an aerobic backward flip that put some distance between him and the statue, he watched as the Equestrian statue came to life, the horse that was apart of it jostling and bucking as it moved fluidly, its rider remaining on his perch without difficulty.

Clearing his throat loudly to get the statue's attention, Pike said, "Lead us to where your owner is. We believe him to be on the thirty-sixth floor of the building so will you please lead the way?"

The statue stared Pike down with empty eyes before looking upwards, directing the pale boy's attention up towards the glass ceiling above.

"Marvelous," Pike whispered.

"Don't see that everyday," Astaroth agreed as he came up from behind Pike, covered in blood.

With a neigh, the marble horse took off, heading towards the elevators, its stone hooves clattering loudly against the marble steps that led to them.

Before any of the other three boys could follow, they paused as a low growl came from behind them, Pike turning his head to look at their guest.

"Going up Sigmund?" Pike inquired.

---

"_Still pouting, huh?"_

"_Not pountin'."_

"_Well you're gonna have to come out of there some time."_

"_Dun have ta. Gonna stay here forever."_

"_Do that and we're dead meat."_

"_Don't care anymore."_

"_Oh? What about Solo? Sister Helen? What about them?"_

"_They ain't here."_

_Reaper growled in frustration. He hadn't meant for things to go this far, only meant to shame him into getting some sort of backbone. Maybe he had but it wasn't what Reaper had been planning on. Right now Kid was being a stubborn ass in their corner of their mind and was refusing to have anything to do with the other personality anymore. In a place that was utter boredom incarnate, that was pure sadistic torture._

_And now that Reaper had figured he had given Kid enough time to pick himself up from his verbal abuse and wanted to do something that could get them out of this mess, things were going in a whole different direction. It was so frustrating! Especially since he didn't know how much time they did have left until it was too late for them to do something._

_Kid being a stubborn ass wasn't helping either._

"_This isn't the best of times to be doing this," he said wryly._

"_I thought I was just a little shit who doesn't wanna face da truth."_

"_Great, you're putting my own words back in my mouth; good for you," Reaper retorted._

_When no response was forthcoming, Reaper groaned. This was going nowhere, nowhere at all. He'd rather try his luck with that third personality of theirs but knew that he wouldn't be able to shove it aside. He was never able to do so without some sort of sharp, external stimulus, one strong enough to make the third pause and allow Reaper to steal control._

_None of that was occurring this time around and the only time there was enough stimulus to make it through, Reaper was unable to break the third's control like all the other times before. That reset button Xavien had spoke of was really something…_

_Speaking of that asshole, how long was he going to wait to get on with this. As long as Kid was being uncooperative, they might as well give up now and let Xavien have his way. That seemed to be the only course of action now._

_But Reaper was a fighter, a survivor, and he would be damned if he gave up without a fight. He could only do so much by himself, though, and he needed all the resources he could gather, including those that Kid possessed._

_Now if only he could word it right to him so that some action could be taken. Damn it, he wasn't a politician! He liked the direct approach, not this pussy-footing around bullshit! Sigh, but if that was what it took, he was going to have to do it._

_Suddenly struck with a flash of inspiration, he spoke out loud in a pondering tone, hoping to provoke what kind of reaction he was looking for. "I wonder what Solo would think if he were to see you right now."_

"_But he ain't here," Kid responded but there was a tenseness in his voice, something that Reaper caught on to quickly enough._

"_Yeah, he ain't," Reaper agreed, beginning to spin his web, "but what if he finds us and asks why we won't wake up or whatever? Then what? Don't think I wouldn't tell him you were too busy being a pussy to do anything."_

"_You wouldn't!" Kid suddenly manifested with a look of horror on his face. Soon, though, that look contorted into a glare. "And I'm not a pussy!"_

_Jackpot._

---

"Somebody's tryin' ta compensate for something," Solo muttered, frowning at the sight of a disembodied marble head that was sitting on a podium.

"Didn't know you knew such big words," Dorothy commented from behind him, arms folded in front of her chest.

"Looking at the blonde girl, he said, "That was an insult, wasn't it?"

"Company," Trowa suddenly spoke up as two guards appeared at the end of the hallway, locked and loaded.

Shoving Dorothy behind him, Solo grabbed the statue head and threw it at the two guards, forcing them to get out of the way to avoid it, buying him time to get in close and bash their heads together. Growling as he tossed the two bodies away, he said, "How many of these guys are there?"

"This is the headquarters for one of the largest firms in the world," Dorothy said dryly. "I'm not surprised they have enough security guys to fill an army battalion."

"How would you know this?" Trowa asked, looking at her curiously.

Turning away from him and folding her arms tighter, she answered, "It's just common knowledge, that's all. Where have you been, under a rock?"

"Does bein' in an underground base count?" Solo asked, raising his hand in the air like a grade-schooler.

"I'm not even going to ask," Dorothy said under her breath.

The sound of gunfire stopped all conversation, each of the trio cocking their heads to a side as if they were trying to figure out where it was coming from. Ignoring Dorothy, Solo made eye contact with Trowa who nodded at him in response. It seemed like something else was up it seemed, especially since none of the fire was aimed at them.

The floor under their feet trembled as something underneath it hit it. Neither of the two males knew what it could be but they braced their selves, ready for anything that might come at them.

The floor before them rose up as the thing hit it again and on the third time, whatever it was broke through, sending debris and dust everywhere. As the air slowly clear, the three found themselves facing a large behemoth.

Monster would have been an appropriate name for it as it was massive and hunched over due to all the overdeveloped muscles in its back. Speaking of muscles, this thing had plenty of them and any shred of clothing it had only covered the necessities. With an animalistic growl, the thing turned a small head that seemed to stick out of the body and revealed a familiar, though bloated, face.

It was Sigmund, Solo realized. Though Sigmund's eyes were bloodshot, Solo could see remnants of the once gentle giant that he had fought once before. But he thought he had been killed, or so he was led to believe from the story he got from Trowa earlier.

Those bloodshot eyes landed on him and some guttural noises came from within the giant's swollen neck of muscle and in an instant he lunged at him. Acting quickly, Solo shoved both Trowa and Dorothy awake just as the giant crashed into him and slammed into and through the wall behind him like it was made of cardboard.

Solo gritted his teeth together as he felt himself going down and back, something thin and solid ramming into the base of his spine harshly and actually sending a twinge of pain through his body. Not willing to take this easily, he let himself fall backwards at an accelerated rate and felt his back come into contact with a wide, flat surface. Seeing as there was no where else to go, he kicked his legs, getting them both in-between Sigmund's legs and continued to lift up, sending the giant overheard and away, giving the blond some breathing room.

Rolling onto his front, he nearly groaned as pushed himself off a long table that looked like it was about to collapse and readied himself to tackle a recovering Sigmund who was getting back up onto his feet. Solo's fist was right in the giant's gut in no time, followed by a barrage of them as the blond sought to beat this latest opponent into a bloody pulp.

Initially stunned, Sigmund gained his wits back quickly and with a large hand, he wrapped his fingers around the other's torso and plucked him off the ground. Solo was more than surprised that Sigmund could literally get his fingers and thumb to touch each other while in the giant's grip, something that disappeared as Sigmund raised him up so quickly that his head went through the ceiling.

Stunned, Solo did nothing as he was pulled back down and then thrown through another wall, breaking through it like it was nothing but styrofoam and flew through the air until he crashed onto of a paper laden desk, the desk crumbling beneath his body and papers clouding all around.

Ignoring the screams of the nearby people, Solo pushed himself up just in time to see Sigmund charge through the newly made hole and heading straight for him.

Boy, this day was really becoming shitty real quickly.


	27. Go Find Your Master

Author's Note: Surprised I updated early? Well, truth be told, it's a special occasion: today is the birthday of Kibin Okami so as a gift I present her with this chapter. Have a happy birthday, KO, and for the rest of you, enjoy.

Disclaimer: I do not own Gundam Wing.

Warning: language, violence, death

Go Find Your Master

No one was more surprised than Trowa to see the sudden appearance of the monstrous Sigmund as the behemoth broke through the floor and attacked Solo right out of the blue. But what really worried the unibanged youth was the emergence of another individual as he crawled out of the hole Sigmund had made only moments before.

"Astaroth," Trowa hissed, his eyes narrowing almost to mere slits.

"Well what do ya know!" Astaroth exclaimed, his eyes gleaming with sadistic excitement. "I was just thinking about you too!"

"The feeling's not mutual," Trowa retorted, grabbing a walking potted plant that he had brought along from the building's lobby. With a flick of his wrist, the jumble of thin plant roots straightened out and wrapped around one another to form a whip that sliced through the air and wrapped around one of Astaroth's wrists. With a sharp tug, Trowa sent the scaly one into a wall and whipped the plant whip back before it could be shredded by spikes.

He didn't have as much liberty with plantlife here in this desolate city so he couldn't afford to lose any.

Snapping at Dorothy, he said, "Get out of here! Now!"

Having remembered Astaroth from their last encounter, the blonde nodded fearfully and took off down a random hallway just as Astaroth broke through an adjacent wall and rushed at Trowa. Trowa twisted out of the way, dodging a spike encrusted fist by mere inches, and then twirled his body to land a kick on Astaroth's back, sending the other stumbling away.

"Picked up some new tricks?" the scaly one snarled as he spun around and charged at Trowa again.

Not deigning to answer, Trowa jumped and flipped over Astaroth, his whip twisting around the scaled boy and tripping him up, causing him to fall face first onto the floor. Not going to chance another attack, Trowa backed away, heading down a hallway opposite to the one Dorothy had taken.

Instead of running at him once he got back up to his feet, Astaroth, shot two spikes at him that Trowa bent over himself backwards, Matrix style, and whipped his whip to capture one of the airborne spikes. Mimicking their previous battle, Trowa sent the appropriated spike back at its creator who caught it in midair, smirking back at him.

"You really thought you could use the same trick on me?" Astaroth sneered.

With only a thought, Trowa grew the root whip out and let its end divide and swarm over Astaroth's arm, the individual roots wrapping around spikes and plucking them off as Trowa tugged it back towards him.

"No, just arming myself," Trowa answered once the whip was back at his side.

"Cocky little shit," Astaroth growled as he re-spiked his arm and lunged at him.

---

Two Romafellor security guards ran down the hallway, their semi-automatics held up and ready to be used on the first intruders they came across.

Their attempt to do their jobs was cut off short as the ceiling above them exploded and collapsed on them, a certain long haired blond grappling with a bulky monster of a boy coming through the debris and succeeding in causing the rubble to crush the two helpless guards.

Hooking a foot just under Sigmund's groin, Solo threw his leg up and forced Sigmund to go over him and slam his head right into the floor. Throwing the large hands off him, Solo scrambled to his feet and landed a kick right into an upside-down Sigmund's ribs, reveling in the feeling of bones giving way under his blow. Sigmund, however, shot both of his arms out and imbedding them into the walls on either side of them. Without much fanfare, Sigmund plucked his head out of the floor and then flipped his body right-side-up, his arms still in the walls, his feet hitting Solo in his gut and sending him flying back.

The blond's body rammed into two incoming guards and the three continued on the trajectory they were sent in. Solo ended up crashing through a wall while the two guards weren't as lucky. Due to Solo's arm being extended out, the two appendages ended up cutting the two guards in half, their bodies slowly sliding down the wall they hadn't broke through.

As the blond got back up to his feet, he heard the sound of shattering glass and felt bullets impact his back. Hearing the unmistakable sound of a helicopter, Solo glanced behind him to see the sight of several armed men shooting at him. Because they weren't causing him harm, literally, he ignored them and turned back just in time to see Sigmund crashing through the wall and getting several bullets lodged into his body for his troubles. There was no doubt in his mind that Sigmund would be affected by a measly bullet and so Solo leapt at the monster, landing his fist right into Sigmund's face and sent him back out through the large hole.

As Sigmund was getting back up onto his feet, Solo struck again, this time holding two pieces of debris in both hands and slamming both on either side of the giant's head. As the manmade rock shattered on contact, Solo wrapped an arm around the giant's bulging neck and leveled punch after punch into a rapidly swelling face. Blood flecked all over the blond and he pushed away right before a large hand could grab him.

Clenching his two hands together, Solo raised both of them up and jackhammered Sigmund on the top of his head and sent down through the floor to the next floor beneath them. Not giving Sigmund the chance to recover, Solo jumped down through the hole in the floor, his feet pressed against one another. Shooting down like a missing, Solo's feet impacted Sigmund's back and the force the blond was using sent both of the boys through this floor and into the one below that one.

With Sigmund landing on and breaking a large table, Solo leapt away and grabbed a revolving chair and proceeded to smash into the giant. He ignored the squeal of fright from one really ugly son of a bitch who escaped through a door and picked up another chair to smash into bits on Sigmund.

A large hand caught the chair and snatched it out of Solo's hands, discarding it by throwing it out a large ass window. Jumping away, Solo grabbed two large shards of glass and used them as makeshift weapons, stabbing them into Sigmund's sides and twisting them. Roaring in pain, Sigmund grabbed the blond and tore him away. Without a second thought, he threw Solo out of the broken window, the blond sailing through the air until he crashed into a building with an enormous crane across the ways.

Staring out from the Romafellor Building, Sigmund snorted and jumped straight up, crashing through and making another hole in the ceiling, resuming his search for his target.

Solo, meanwhile, had nearly blacked out after his unintentional flight. Rubbing the back of his neck, he cracked opened his eyes and groaned at what he saw. Fuck! Now what was he going to do? He had to get back over there but if he jumped at his current height, he would end up on a lower storey, maybe even in that large ass lobby.

Guess he needed to go higher, eh?

---

Tsubarov fled from scene as if his life depended on it.

Considering the circumstances, he may not have been far off from it.

Having two superpowered boys break through the ceiling and right into the very room you were assaulted in, and were still inhabiting, kinda made such a reaction more than okay.

While pissed that he had been taken down so easily earlier, seeing those two boys destroy the boardroom was more than enough to temper his anger and heighten his primal survival instincts. He had to get out of here because there undoubtedly were more in the building doing who knew what else and if he wanted to live to see tomorrow, his best bet would be outside than in here.

Reaching an elevator, he frantically pressed on the down button, pressing it down again and again until the familiar ding sounded, signaling that the lift had arrived. Before he could celebrate, though, he found the elevator already occupied.

Standing right in that metal box was a statue, one that looked exactly like the one on top of the fountain in the lobby…

The marble horse suddenly let loose a challenging neigh and that was enough to send the large man running for his life. The marble man that sat on the horse kicked his feet into the horse's sides and the sculpted animal went charging after Tsubarov like it was a hound out of hell.

Even though he may have had a good head start, the gap between him and this pale specter was closing rapidly. Perhaps it had been too rapid since Tsubarov could have sworn that something, most likely the horse's muzzle hit him in the back and threw him to his stomach.

Rolling onto his back, his beady eyes widened in fear as the horse reared up and brought its hooves down onto him. His screams and cries of pain filled the hallways, slowly dieing out until there was nothing more than a bloody pulp of a man where he had once laid.

Coming up from behind the statue, almost nonchalantly, a pale white boy looked down at the mess curiously but was not disturbed in the slightest by it.

"Was this your owner?" Pike asked, looking up at Marcus Aurelius questioningly.

A shake of a marble head was his answer and the boy sighed.

"That's the second one today. Not that I mind but would you please lead me to your owner? I want to finish this mission as soon as possible."

Nodding in apparent understanding though Pike doubted it would retain such information, the statue turned around in the hallway and trotted back to the elevator, Pike following slowly after it.

---

Dorothy was surprised to find that for an important place like this, she had barely run into anybody. They had probably all left when the gunfire started and much more to her shock, she found that the building itself was under attack from two helicopters.

Adding Sigmund and Astaroth into the equations, it didn't take long for the blonde to put two and two together to know that XAI was behind this.

But that didn't explain why Romafellor had Duo in the first place.

Hearing rapidly approaching footsteps and fearing that it maybe the security, she tried to hide herself beside a carved marble pillar that held a small marble head on top of it. The small decoration would have to do for now since there was nowhere else she could duck into to hide.

As it turned out, she didn't need to hide. Coming into view, she was shocked to see both Heero and Relena turn the corner and head straight in her direction though it didn't look like they had noticed her yet. What in the name of all that was holy were they doing here? She moved from her hiding spot and came out into plain view, the two teens catching sight of her and slowing down so that they didn't trample her.

"Dorothy?!" Relena exclaimed.

"What are you doing here?" Heero demanded, the blonde girl noticing that the Japanese youth was holding the broken off head of a small statue in hand. Seeing the impressions of blood on it led the girl to believe that Heero had used it as some sort of makeshift weapon already.

"I'm looking for Duo," she told the other too, a breathless quality to her voice as she almost couldn't believe what she was saying.

"How do you know he's here?" Heero questioned.

"I came here with Solo and Trowa," she explained, taking a moment to look behind her friends then herself for any possible chance that they might be interrupted. Seeing nothing, she continued, "We've been looking for him for a while and we were led here. There's not much time, though. XAI's on the attack and they sent at least two of their Maxwell guys here."

The couple looked at her queerly for a second before recognition dawned in their eyes. "Shit!" Heero swore. "They'll tear this place apart. We need to get out of here!"

"Not without Duo," Dorothy put in. "Solo's been driving me crazy looking for him."

"Then lets go and get him and get out of here," Relena spoke up. "Solo was the blond, right? He'll live if this place goes down."

"This way," Heero gestured with the marble head in the direction behind Dorothy.

However, they were able to make any headway as the path behind the Dorothy was blocked off by several armed security guards, in the middle of which stood a small framed old man who looked more than a bit ruffled.

Dorothy immediately knew who this man was; she had seen his visage many a times before on the news, something that was a foreign concept to all their friends back home. It was Mr. Romafellor.

Approaching the three, Romafellor said, "That sounds like a grand idea, child, and thank you for that bit of information. I'm surprised that Xavien would go to these lengths just to get rid of me."

Moving in-between the girls, Heero raised his crude weapon up threateningly, at the same time getting several guns trained on him. "Don't you take another step closer," he threatened, ignoring the guns.

"Put that down," Romafellor reprimanded harshly. "You don't have a choice in this. You have served me quite well and I still have some uses for you. I will not let Xavien get away with this. Now be good little children and come with me."

"Over my dead body," Heero hissed.

"Pity," Romafellor said, not in the least bit sorry about what was to come. "But your girlfriend has been more than helpful so I believe you are…expendable." Eyeing one of his guards, he ordered, "Terminate him."

Before anything could be done, though, a high pitched neighing interrupted the confrontation, capturing everyone's attention towards something far behind the three teens.

It was Romafellor's replica of Marcus Aurelius.

"What the devil?!" Romafellor barked out, losing his sophisticated demeanor for a moment.

As if his words were the catalyst, the equestrian statue took off towards them at a gallop. Heero grabbed the two girls and threw all of them out of the way of the charging statue. Romafellor backed up and was moved out of the way by his men who had begun firing their automatic weapons at the abomination. Small flecks and pieces of marble chipped off the statue as it ran at them, the statue passing by the three teens and ramming into the guards.

As gunfire ricocheted all over the hallway and cries of pain combined with crunching bones were heard, the teens took advantage of the distraction and made a run from the horrifying scene back the way the statue had come.

Turning the corner, they ran into somebody else, a short, pale boy in a skintight black uniform that they all had seen before. Backing away from him, they eyed him warily, as if he was a ticking time bomb ready to blow at a moment's notice. The boy just stared back at them disinterested until his eyes fell on the rock in Heero's hand.

Then he got mad.

"You barbarians!" he hissed, his eyes narrowing and his fists clenching tightly. "How could you do something that horrendous to such a work of art?!"

None of them understood what the boy was talking about but Heero had had enough of it. Taking a step forward, he swung the broken marble head at the boy who just leant out of the way and grabbed the marble head with a hand, the appendage spasming against it.

Dancing back and away from Heero who tried to punch at him, the Japanese youth suddenly cried out in pain. Blood was leaking from his hand and as he took another look at it, he saw that his thumb was captured in the mouth that was on the marble head, never-before-seen marble teeth cutting deeply into it.

Shaking and waving his hand around, Heero tried to get rid of the head but it held on right until the point it had bitten through the bone. Nearly screaming in pain, Heero managed to get rid of the head, throwing it away and towards the pale boy who dodged it effortlessly. Gritting his teeth tightly, Heero examined his now thumbless hand and nearly wept from the pain throbbing from it.

"Heero, look out!" Relena shrieked at him and he managed to avoid the swipe of the boy's hand just in time but not soon enough as the boy's fingers had torn through his shirt and scratched up his front with claw marks.

Glaring at the boy, Heero noticed that the boy's fingernails weren't typical, or normal for that matter. They were clawlike but instead of being made of what fingernails were made of, they were pure marble.

"Art flows through my every vein," the boy intoned, slowly stalking towards Heero. "I have managed to change so much that I may as well be art itself."

"Relena, Dorothy, get out of here!" he yelled to the girls. "Find Duo and leave!"

He didn't hear a protest from Relena but that may have been due to the fact that Dorothy had grabbed her and dragged her away, leaving Heero alone in this fight.

It was one he wasn't sure he would come out from but he was damn sure he wouldn't go down alone.

---

Relena was in so much turmoil. On one hand, she wanted to go back and stick by Heero's side. On the other, she wanted to get out of this nightmare as quickly as possible and crawled into a dark hole and curl into a ball so that she could no longer be bothered by this world.

"Stay with me Relena!" she heard Dorothy yell back at as she led them further and further away from Heero. "We need to find Duo and you're the only one I can trust who might know where he is."

That brought her back somewhat. That's right, Heero also wanted them to find Duo. If that's what he wanted then she would do it. "It's this way," she said, taking the lead as she held onto Dorothy's hand, not wanting to let go of her best friend.

Taking a sharp right, they headed for the stairs and began climbing them to go up a couple floors. Neither of them noticed someone else had joined, at least not until they were out of the stairwell and they heard a voice ask:

"Why are we running?"

The girls stumbled and nearly tripped over themselves as they came to a stop and spun around, seeing much to their horror a small boy in a black uniform. The boy was smiling charmingly at them and removing some long blond hair out of his face. Had this been any other occasion, both of the girls would have fallen for him but they had seen one to many things to know that looks can be deceiving.

The small boy might mean no harm to them but neither of them were going to chance it. Slowly, they began taking steps back, one at a time. The boy remained where he was, just smiling at them no matter how far away they got from him. Turning a corner, the girl's turned around and ran.

Meanwhile, the boy waited for a minute before taking out his harmonica and playing a few quick and short notes on it. Barely a second had passed when something burst through the floor behind him, revealing itself to be the monstrous form of Sigmund.

Pointing in the direction the two girls had gone, Stone said, "They went thataway. Follow them and they might lead us to that Romafellor guy."

Grunting, Sigmund walked forward, taking his time as he followed after the girls' trail, sniffing the air like an animal.


	28. Ultimate Showdowns

Disclaimer: I do not own Gundam Wing.

Warning: language, violence, death

Ultimate Showdowns

"_Are you sure this is gonna work?" Kid asked skeptically, raising an eyebrow at his counterpart._

"_Not really," Reaper shrugged. "I can't beat this other guy by myself. You can't even beat me so you going ahead alone would be stupid."_

"_So we both try at da same time?" Duo asked, finishing up Reaper's plan in a nutshell. "What if that don't work?"_

"_Then we'll have to think of something else," Reaper replied, sighing in irritation._

"_Okay, if it does work, does that mean both of us will be in control? What then?"_

_Reaper paused, that possibility having not occurred to him yet. "We'll have to chance it," he said determinedly. "We both know what'll happen if we don't do something."_

"_Yeah, yeah, I heard ya," Kid muttered to himself._

---

Trowa slammed up against a wall and immediately slid to a side just as a spike-covered fist hit just where his head had been, the fist tearing into the wall like it was paper. Pushing himself away from the wall, Trowa spun his body and landed a knee into Astaroth's back and danced away as spikes erupted all over the other.

Pulling his fist out of the wall, Astaroth turned towards Trowa, glaring at him with a promise of intense pain. Crossing his arms over his chest and curling his body somewhat, Astaroth seemed to puff out until all the spikes in his body shot out, each one going in a random direction.

Letting reflex take control of his body, Trowa leapt and twisted about to avoid each and every spike, miraculously managing to accomplish the feat. He hadn't even landed back on his feet as his root whip captured a few of the flying spikes and, with a tug, sent them back at Astaroth.

Coming out of the ball like form, Astaroth's eyes widened and brought his forearms up just in time to catch the spikes, the sharp projectiles actually digging through his scaly flesh and into his bones. Lowering his arms, he snarled at the retreating Trowa and sucked all of the spikes in his arms back into his body, reforming them all over his body again with barely a sign of injury on his person.

Approaching the end of the hallway, Trowa spun around the corner and ran down the new corridor, his eyes quickly scanning for another plant he could use. However, he had expected Astaroth to charge down the hallways, not break through the walls and nearly spear him with an assault of spikes and debris.

Gasping in surprise, Trowa spun his whip in front of him, the whip forming a spiral like barrier that caught most of the spikes and wrapped around them. For those that got past, all but one missed him and the one that got him slashed him on his shoulder. Gritting his teeth, he threw his whip back then snapped it forward, sending the spikes back at Astaroth, keeping only one of the spikes with him. Astaroth jumped back into the hole in the wall he had made, thus evading the potentially lethal attack.

Coming back out to face off with Trowa again, he lifted his hand up just in time to prevent Trowa from stabbing him with one of his own spikes. Unfortunately, said spike ended up stabbed right through his hand and a spurt of blood slapped him in his face.

Immediately, Trowa pulled the spike back and out of Astaroth hand before he could absorb it back into his body, not willing to relinquish his best weapon thus far. As Astaroth clutched his bleeding hand in pain, Trowa whipped his whip towards the rubble that had once been apart of the wall and extended all the roots in his whip to grab all of them.

Throwing his hand up, Trowa threw the large ball of debris up and then swung it back down at Astaroth like it was a wrecking ball, the scaly one not noticing the attack until it was upon him and sending through the floor and into the one below.

Raising an eyebrow, Trowa released his whip's hold on the debris and let it fall to cover the other boy. Coming to the edge of the hole, he waited until the other broke out of his temporary prison with a snarl before he leapt down at him feet first. The soles of Trowa's feet connected with the back of Astaroth's skull and the force he had been falling with sent the other face first into the rubble-covered floor. Jumping off the other boy, Trowa spun in the air and landed on his feet nimbly, awaiting Astaroth's next move.

---

Slamming open the door to the stairwell, Romafellor did not hesitate as he ran as fast as his body would allow down the flight of stairs, his aged heart beating in his chest like it hadn't done in decades. Adrenaline helped to keeping him moving and a flood of it entered his bloodstream as a shrieking neigh screamed from above.

The sound of marble hoofs clomping clumsily on the stairs, soon followed by a crashing sound, most likely the statue running into a wall, freaked the businessman out but not enough that he lost all his wits. He knew he wouldn't be able to outrun this monstrosity for long; he wasn't in the prime of his youth anymore and all this physical activity was beginning to take its toll on him.

Reaching a random floor, he slammed through the stairwell door and continued to flee for his life.

---

_They attacked simultaneously, getting the upperhand in their battle to reclaim control of their body right at the beginning. Having only expected them to come at him one at a time, the third personality almost lost his hold on the precious control he possessed but managed to retain it just barely._

"_We're almost there!" Reaper shouted. "Keep it up Kid!"_

"_That's what I'm doing!" Kid shouted back, focusing all the energies he could muster on this single difficult task._

_Instead of retorting back as he was wont to, Reaper instead focused his eyes on the prize and pushed himself against the third personality, starting to shove it away and out of control._

_He could feel it; that other them was losing this fight, even as he wrestled for control. However, this third guy was so damn stubborn and not willing to give up like he should! Damn it, just give it up already!_

_It'd be much simpler that way._

_Then the third pushed back and the force of his defensive nearly destroyed the other two's assault. Kid nearly failed right then and there but he held on and slowly built back up his attack, his teeth gritting as he inched closer and closer to the forefront._

_Whoever could get there would be the one in control._

_Kid then felt a blow shove him back and he lost whatever precious ground he had gained. Seeing Reaper refusing to give up urged the other personality to continue on, even though he was already becoming tired from all this strain._

_Reaper, meanwhile, was swearing up a storm as he continued pushing forth, any defensive the third mounted against him only pushing him back momentarily before he regained whatever ground he lost and gained even more. He could feel it, they were going to beat this!_

_He stretched out an arm and reached as far as he could around the third, his fingers only inches away from victory._

---

It was a good thing neither of the two girls were wearing high heels because that would've made running for their lives so much more harder. Every once in a while, either Relena or Dorothy would check behind them to make sure the blond haired boy wasn't following them as Relena led them down hallway after hallway.

"How much…further?" Dorothy panted as they stole around another corner.

Slowly coming to a stop, Relena took a look at where they were, her brow creasing as she wracked her memory. It wasn't that long ago that she had been here. In fact…

"Wrong turn!" she mumbled to herself as she doubled back towards the corner they had just passed and returned to the hallway they were once in. How could she have forgotten about that? Then again, everything in this place looked the same…

"Relena!" Dorothy said loudly, looking behind them.

Peeking around, Relena nearly shrieked as she saw a massive…thing lurking down the hallways, the thing catching sight of them and starting to go after them.

"Faster!" Dorothy nearly shrieked.

"This way!" Relena exclaimed as they hooked around the next corner. "He's down here, I know it!"

Passing by a number of windows and taking a couple rights and lefts, they came upon a dead end where only one door on their far right could be seen.

"There?" Dorothy asked, not taking her eyes off the single door.

"Positive," Relena confirmed.

A grunt caused both girls to freeze and as one, they slowly turned their heads around to see their only exit cut off by the deformed Sigmund, the giant hulk looking over at them with piercing, feral eyes.

"Not good," Dorothy said to herself, though Relena heard her easily.

---

Let it not be said that Solo wasn't stubborn. He had that in spades so after crashing through a few ceilings, he found himself standing next to a large crane with a clear view of the Romafellor Building straight across from him.

He had debated for a couple minutes on how he was going to get across; he still felt in his gut that he wasn't high enough. However, despite the glare of the sun on the windows, he thought he saw the hulking form of Sigmund through one of them and he knew that if he wanted to get him good, he was going to need all the power it could muster.

That meant that he needed to be closer to the building but how was he going to do that? With one of those annoying helicopters coming into view, Solo growled, both in frustration and irritability. In fact, he was so frustrated and irritated that he banged his head against the nearest surface, said surface giving way against his thick skull.

In response, he got an ominous groaning sound.

Turning his head slowly, he noticed that he had hit his head against the supporting metal pillar of the crane and that his hard skull had left a dent in it. That's when he got an idea.

Oh yeah, this ought to do just nicely.

Sliding along the building's makeshift roof, Solo, with one punch, tore a part of the crisscrossing metal tower and grinned in satisfaction as the crane began to lean towards him and the Romafellor Building. Bending his knees, Solo launched himself up high into the air, using the sides of the collapsing crane to carrying him up towards the top.

Crouching and bracing himself against the metal surface, Solo looked straight ahead in determination as he drew closer and closer to his goal. It must've been an awesome from below, he mused to himself for a second. Seeing a sight like a large ass crane falling off a building didn't happen every day, you know? He cleared his mind a second later, focusing on what was about to occur.

The helicopter was still doing what it was doing as the arm of the crane fell down and slammed right into it, causing it aircraft to explode in a ball of flame that would have impressed the blond a few months ago. However, the moment he heard the explosion, he shot off the crane and right through the windows, ramming right into Sigmund.

The force in which he hit the giant sent Sigmund not just through the wall but the floor in the adjacent room, the blond holding onto the behemoth all the while. The moment Sigmund stopped, Solo unleashed a merciless assault of punches and blows into Sigmund's person, not letting up for an instant as he sought to deliver the most damage possible.

Slipping off the hulk, Solo wrapped his arms tightly around that thick, corded neck and swung his body into, through, and dragged him into even more of the wall before throwing Sigmund over his shoulder into an, God forbid, undamaged wall.

Baring a grin full of teeth, Solo launched himself after Sigmund, all too ready to dish out some more pain.

---

_Have you ever gotten the feeling of frustration when something was just within your grasp and yet you can't quite reach it?_

_That spelled Reaper's aggravation to a "T" as he was so close to beating this third personality guy and yet was prevented from going that one extra inch by said personality guy. He pushed and shoved with all his might, not holding back for an instant as he fought to gain that tenuous control the third personality had on their body._

_Speaking of them, Kid was starting to lose the fight and was slowly being pushed farther and farther away. Reaper had to admit that Kid had managed to last quite a long time, longer than he had expected, but now whatever assistance Kid had given him was slowly vanishing as the third personality began to take the upperhand in this fight, one that they couldn't afford to lose._

_Becoming more and more desperate by the minute, Reaper was able to do the equivalent of poking the third personalitiy's eyes, making him howl in their mind and pause in his defense. It was the kind of lapse that Reaper had been seeking and it was an opportunity that he didn't squander as he shoved himself ahead and took hold of their body._

_However, the very instant he took control, Kid came out of nowhere and grabbed it as well._

_That was the last either of them would know as everything became fuzzy and faded into darkness._

---

Both of the two fighters were bleeding and panting for air but they kept their eyes focused on one another, daring the other to make the next move. Trowa tightened his hold on the pilfered spike but made no move to strike, even as he slowly backed down the hallway, Astaroth edging after him so as to not let him get too far.

Astaroth feinted at his right but did nothing else. Trowa brought his guard up but slowly let it down a bit when no attack was forthcoming. He made a bit of a show of moving at the scaly one but only jumped back in the end, Astaroth stopping in his tracks momentarily before resuming his slow pacing.

Slowly, the two entered a large room in which a good amount of the floor was a glass dome, a railing circling around it so as to prevent anyone from falling and breaking through the glass.

Catching sight of a plant, Trowa leapt at it and grabbed the base of its stem, pulling it off its pedestal and swinging it towards Astaroth, the roots breaking through the pot and extending outwards. Astaroth shot a barrage of spikes in a preemptive strike but Trowa had already counted on such a thing. He had the roots wrap around their selves time and again until it was one long, thick cord that he spun in front of himself and blocked all the spikes coming at him.

Astaroth was suddenly in front of him, slashing with a spike which Trowa blocked with the plant roots that had become a staff of sorts. Pushing Astaroth back, he jabbed an end of his root staff into Astaroth's gut and another into his forehead, stunning the scaly one long enough for Trowa to slam the end of the staff onto the floor and use it like a pole to spin around on and level a one-two kick into the other's chest.

Landing back on his feet, Trowa raised the staff up and swung it down in an arc at the scaly one but Astaroth rolled out of the way at the last second and jumped back to his feet. Growing a very long and very sharp spike out of the palm of his hand, Astaroth copied Trowa's earlier action, swinging the spike down and cutting the root staff in half.

Holding onto the remaining half of his cut staff, Trowa loosened the roots and swung them at the metal railings, the roots wrapping around them tightly. With a flick of his wrist, Trowa tore a segment of the railing out and threw it at Astaroth, the scaly one ducking to avoid it.

It was at this time that somebody else entered their fight and it happened to be an old man who seemed to have been running for his life. The panting man stared at both of them and they stared back just as dumbly. A shrill neigh interrupted the standoff and the man spun around and backed away from the rapidly approaching marble statue that was intent on taking his life.

"You gotta be fucking me," Astaroth deadpanned and Trowa acted as if those words were a catalyst.

He shot out his whip at the statue, the roots extending and wrapping around the horse's neck. Using both hands, Trowa pulled and directed the statue straight at Astaroth. Eyes widening, Astaroth caught the statue but couldn't be stopped from being shoved back by the moving rock, plowing straight into a wall.

Teeth clenching tightly, Astaroth's eye flared with rage and he shoved the statue off of him. The statue whinnied, or so Trowa thought, in surprise and as it flailed about, Astaroth was on the warpath, heading straight for the unnibanged young man with lethal intent.

Acting quickly, Trowa shot his whip out again to grab the statue and flung it towards the scaly one. Unfortunately, Astaroth just happened to be between him and the statue.

The sculpted piece of marble collided into Astaroth's back and the youth was sent tumbling along with it straight into Trowa.

Trowa felt the unintentional blow all too well but that was soon overtaken by the feel of glass caving in behind his back and the force of gravity taking hold of all three of them.

---

Neither Dorothy or Relena could express how relieved they felt as they saw Solo crash right into Sigmund and take him away from them to who knew where. It had really been one of those tense moments, the kind where you knew you were about to be horribly mangled and could do nothing about it.

Now, though, both were on the verge of crying tears of joy. At least that was until Dorothy remembered what they were doing only a moment before.

Turning back towards the door that led to the room that Relena claimed Duo was in, the girl slowly made her approach, wary of anything that she might encounter. She had seen and heard so many things in such a short amount of time that she wasn't just going to jump ahead into anything.

That was exactly how she got into this mess in the first place.

Tentatively, she turned the doorknob, almost surprised that it was not locked but she wasn't about to break from her caution this soon. Almost fearfully, she pushed the door opened, pressing herself against the wall beside the door and peeking through the doorway.

What she saw was definitely more than she expected.

There laid Duo on a bed surrounded by all sorts of medical equipment from an IV to a heart monitor. Throwing aside all caution, Dorothy made her way towards the comatose boy, her eyes wide and disbelieving at the sight.

"What have they done to him?" she uttered.

"He was like this when he was brought here," Relena answered solemnly. "Romafellor told us that somebody named Xavien did this to him."

Xavien. The man behind all of this. To see Duo, the lively boy that she had come to know, to be reduce to this…it was almost too much for her. James Maxwell was on the mark about this. To think that a childhood dream could be twisted into this horrible nightmare…

It was as if something snapped within her. Dorothy did not know exactly when it happened but the next thing she knew she was pulling out needles and taking off probes, getting Duo ready to be moved. Solo could get him out of this state, she was sure about that.

"What are you doing?" Relena cried out, stunned by her best friend's audacity.

"I'm getting him out of here," Dorothy replied curtly. "That's the reason why we're all here."

Relena grabbed her from behind and pulled her away from the bed and medical equipment. "But he needs all of this!" she blurted out. "It's the only things that have been keeping him alive this whole time!"

"Let go Relena!" Dorothy snapped.

Rudely, Dorothy shoved her way out of Relena's grip and made to approach the bed again only to stop in her tracks. Hovering over the bed was the body of Duo and the very air around him seemed to waver as if he was being held by some unnatural force. The space around the boy distorted more and more until Duo could not be seen by either of the girl, both of them root to the floor.

Then just like that, it was gone. Duo was gone.

Staring at the now empty bed, Dorothy's mind could not grasp what had happened. Only one thought managed to float about in her head, though, and it was something that made a ball of dread build up in the pit of her stomach.

_How am I going to explain this to Solo?_


	29. Sacrifice for Your Beliefs

Author's Note: A long ass chapter awaits you, action packed and filled with death galore! Never have so many named characters died in one of my chapters but I'm going for a new record this time around. Don't know what the record is but I'm going to try and break it anyway.

Some of you are wondering about what the hell happened to Duo last chapter. Well, as I told KO, that's for me to know and for you all to find out. Later. When I feel like telling you. Enjoy.

Disclaimer: I do not own Gundam Wing.

Warning: language, violence, death

Sacrifice for Your Beliefs

Trowa gritted his teeth tightly as he struggled to hold on to the perch he had grabbed, a long fall a promise should he slip.

After being bowled over by Astaroth and that statue, all three of them had fallen back and onto the glass dome. After crashing through the glass, Trowa had grabbed onto the rim of the dome, trying to ignore the piercing pain of glass cutting into the palm of his hands as he held on to dear life.

It didn't really help that Astaroth had managed to grab onto his legs and the guy's weight was making this increasingly difficult.

At least that statue was out of the way. A peek down head revealed the shattered remains of it on the lobby floor down below. It was a grim reminder of what he would become if he let go but unlike the statue he would be more of a splatter than a pile of rubble.

"Better not let go, asshole," Astaroth grunted from below.

"At this rate, we're both going to die," Trowa hissed back, eyeing the blood that was leaking from his hands and slipping down his arms.

"And you think I'm gonna let go?!" Astaroth nearly shrieked back. "No way in hell man!"

"Then what do you propose?" Trowa snapped back. "I can't hold us up here for long and you're too heavy."

"What about that old man?" Astaroth demanded.

"He ditched us a while ago," Trowa reported back. "It's just you and me now. Either one of us dies or we both do. It's your call, really."

"The only one whose gonna die around here is you!" Astaroth snarled. "I ain't gonna die here. No way, no how."

"I take it you've chosen the latter option," Trowa said dryly.

"Hell no!" Astaroth retorted. Shifting his hold around Trowa's legs, the scaly one began to slowly climb up his body. "You said one of us was gonna die," Astaroth grunted. "Well, you're right about that one only it's gonna be you."

Trowa slipped on his grip due to Astaroth's movements, only managing to hold on by the ends of his fingers. Because his hold on Trowa wasn't as tight as it was before, Astaroth slipped all the way down to Trowa's ankles, a yelp of surprise coming out of his mouth.

Doing his best not to let go of the edge, Trowa squirmed his legs and managed to free one of his feet, leaving the other as Astaroth's only connection to survival. Then Trowa kicked his foot down into Astaroth's face, trying to dislodge him and lighten the load that his fingers were holding up. However, Astaroth was stubborn in not letting go and held on tightly, taking all the blows Trowa rained down on his face.

Taking a new approach, Trowa stopped kicking down and swung his foot in an arc, the heel of his shoe getting the scaly one right in his throat. That was just what the uinbanged young man needed as the other gasped for air and lost his hold, plummeting down into oblivion.

Astaroth screamed in rage as his opponent and the ceiling drew further and further away from him as he fell. Believing that death was imminent, he curled himself into a ball and grew elongated spikes all around him until he was a small ball of spikes. If he didn't survive this, then if that asshole fell, he'd fall right on to him and get a nasty surprise.

The balled Astaroth slammed onto the hard floor and a large spider web of cracks grew out from his landing sight, the floor cratering beneath him.

High above, now with less weight to hold up, Trowa breathed a sigh of relief. All he needed to do now was pull himself up and he'd be safe…

…and then he lost his grip.

It was almost surreal, in a way. Never before had he felt so weightless, as if gravity had no hold on him, like he was an astronaut. Even though the air around him billowed, that did nothing to tear apart the illusion and he liked it that way.

But like hell it was going to end like this!

He called out a cry for help, for any help, from the closest plants and, lo and behold, they responded. They raced up on the lobby walls and jumped down through the hole in the glass dome, reaching him in record time.

In less than a second, he weaved all the roots together to form a rather crude parachute but it was miraculously slowing him down. He was still falling but at a much slower rate, the floor not rushing up to him like it had but still coming towards him at an alarming rate.

When he landed, he felt a sharp twinge of pain in his right leg and he collapsed down onto the floor. Gasping for air, he nearly burst out in laughter; he was alive!

Then the floor under him and the balled form that was Astaroth collapsed beneath him and he fell one more time.

---

Heero wasn't doing so well against the weird pale boy with the clawed hands. Without a suitable weapon in hand to aid him, the teen had to resort to dodging and evading each swipe the other threw at him.

And it was a good thing too that he did dodge. He had witness those hands tear into the walls and leave very ominous claw marks in them and the boy was not the worse for wear.

Pike, on the other hand, wasn't much of a talker. He was more focused on the rage he had for this barbarian and the way he destroyed such masterly crafted works. Had he no soul? Well, he was going to make him pay for it if he would only hold still!

Ducking under one particularly vicious swipe, Heero rolled and sprang towards a door, opening it and scanning the room inside for a possible weapon. A clawed hand broke through the wooden barricade and Heero leapt into the room, pulling the door closed behind him and smirking at the thumping sound as the boy hit up against it.

That smirk soon fading as the boy began tearing the door apart and Heero frantically looked for something, anything that could help him out. Much to his luck, he was in a break room and a small one at that. There wasn't much here but a boiling pot of coffee and that was about it.

By now, Pike had torn the door to shreds and was standing in the way of way of Heero's only escape, grinning ferally at his cornered prey.

Acting quickly, Heero grabbed the pot of coffer and flung it at the pale boy, gleeful as the boy shrieked in pain as he was drenched in the boiling liquid. At least he could say it added some color to him. Perhaps if got a suntan…

Heero twisted out of the way at the last minute as a clawed hand swiped down at him and smashed into the counter next to him.

Sliding against the nearby refrigerator to put some distance between him and the other, Heero slammed opened the door of the large appliance, smacking the flat surface against the pale boy who looked momentarily stunned for a second before grabbing the door and tearing it off its hinges. Holding onto one end of the door, Heero shoved the obstacle between him and the pale boy forward and forced the other against the counter.

Despite having the ability to tear through walls like they were paper and bring life to the most beautiful things man ever created, Pike was having some problems here as he struggle against the fridge door. He didn't have the strength to crush the thing nor was he able to get a hand far enough away to try and break it.

Whereas he didn't have the strength needed to get out of this the force his way out of this, he did have the flexibility to squeeze his way out. That was precisely what he did as he practically flattened himself and slipped down onto the floor, the refrigerator door above him like a ceiling.

The barbarian was vulnerable now as Pike could see his legs so clearly. However, before he could make his next move, the door slammed into him from above and flattened him onto the floor. Growling, Pike shoved the door off and behind him, getting to his feet quickly and ready to tear something apart.

What he got for his efforts was a punch to the face and that was enough to send him backwards into the refrigerator door that was leaning slatted against the counter and cabinets in the break room. Dazed by the unexpected blow, he slid down to the floor and let his head loll back and thump against the door.

Hearing a scraping sound he looked up just into time to see the barbarian push the rest of the refrigerator down onto him.

After hearing only a squeak of surprise, Heero panted as he stared balefully at the toppled fridge, as if daring for it to move. When nothing happened he stumbled away and clutched his throbbing, thumbless hand. For too long he had ignored it and he couldn't do so for much longer. But he still had to catch up with the girls and that was something he wasn't looking forward too.

---

With an expert motion, Romafellor loaded his pump action shotgun, preparing himself for a fight. Having retreated back to his office with the intention of taking control of this mess, he had come to a determination that if he was going to get anywhere, he'd have to use lethal force.

So be it.

---

Trowa shook his head, trying to get the cobwebs out of it as he picked himself up. Looking around at the concrete basement floor that he now found himself in, he then looked up at the hole in which he had fallen through.

It wasn't a second after that a sharp pain from his leg shot through his body and he had to let himself plop back down onto the ground. Looking down at the offending leg, he nearly growled at the grisly sight it produced. Damn it, it was broken. Probably got it from the fall, the first one at least. This was just great, perfect.

A very long spike suddenly impaled the broken leg and continued forth into the floor. Trowa couldn't keep a yelp of pain from escaping and when he glared up at his attacker, he felt his heart sank.

Astaroth.

And he looked just like the cat who had gotten the canary.

"Got ya," the scaly taunted. "You ain't going anywhere."

---

"YEE-HAW!!!!!"

Solo had never been to a rodeo before, never saw a bucking bronco, or a bull riding contest in his life, but he supposed that it would be similar to this.

Here they were, the two strongest teens on Earth, one of them a stubborn city kid riding onto of the other's back, the other being a mindless beast who was in the process of trying to buck him off of him.

And the blond had never had so much fun in his life.

Bursting through yet another wall, Sigmund crashed into a maze of cubicles, knocking every one in sight trying to dislodge the blond headed son of a bitch on his back. Solo, however, only crowed in delight and kicked his legs into Sigmund's sides to get a violent reaction out of him.

He got his reaction alright, but Solo thought that maybe he should mix it up a bit as Sigmund mildly calmed down. Reaching a hand out, the blond snagged a computer and then smashed the appliance against the back of Sigmund's head. That may have been a bad idea as Sigmund toppled forwards and slid against the littered floor, the unexpected stop throwing the blond off the giant and into a pile of cubicle remains.

"Whew, what a ride!" Solo exclaimed, picking himself up. Wanting to do it again, he looked over at the giant in disappointment as the other was charging at him again.

"Olé!" Solo proclaimed as he slid to a side, Sigmund running right past him. The giant spun back around and charged at him again but this time, Solo ducked and kicked the giant's feet right out from under him. "Have a nice trip and see ya next fall!" Solo commented as he danced out of the way from a large hand seeking to grab him.

Jumping above the hulk, Solo landed a piledriver on the other's back, Solo reveling in the sound of a spine snapping beneath his elbow. Knowing that Sigmund was just going to heal from it, Solo took the opportunity to cause more damage. Wrapping his arms around Sigmund's waist as best he could, Solo dug his feet into the floor and lifted the hulk up and above his head, performing a suplex as he rammed Sigmund's head into the floor.

There was a snapping sound, as if something was breaking or snapping back together and Solo found that Sigmund had taken control again. The giant, somehow twisting back onto his feet, grabbed Solo and charged at a wall, slamming the blond into it but not quite breaking through it. Pulling back and taking Solo with him, Sigmund lifted the blond high up into the air and slammed him down onto the floor harshly, Solo's body bouncing against the hard surface.

Roaring, Sigmund left Solo where he lay only to raise his large fists up into the air and then slam them down one at a time onto him, raining blow after massive blow onto the helpless blond.

"This…may…have…been…a…bad…idea…" Solo managed to gasp out in-between blows.

It was at that time that Heero came onto the scene. The Japanese youth didn't even pause to think about it; he just rushed into the fray, picking up a piece of cubicle wall on his way and using it as a club on the hulk.

Unfazed by Heero's attempts to get the creature's attention, Sigmund ignored him until he got a surprising hit on his face. Only emitting a grunt, Sigmund didn't even turn his body as his large hand wrapped around Heero's torso, the fingers squeezing and bones giving way underneath them.

Without even looking away from Solo, Sigmund threw Heero away, the teen smashing through a wall. Unlike the blond lying on the floor, Heero wasn't able to handle such pressure and strain on his body so it was little surprise that his broken body lay crumpled in the hallway beyond, his pupils widening as his vision grew darker and darker until all he saw was darkness.

Seeing all this from the corner of his amber-colored eyes, Solo took advantage of the opportunity presented to him and grabbed a hold of Sigmund's hand, the one closest to him at least, and jerked it downward, catching the giant off guard and forcing him to stumble. Throwing his legs up, Solo rammed his feet into Sigmund's face. Then, still holding onto Sigmund's hand and his feet planted in his face, the blond flipped himself then plopped his ass down onto the back of Sigmund's neck.

Wrapping his thighs and legs around the swollen neck, Solo threw punch after punch onto Sigmund's unprotected head. However, Sigmund reacted quickly and quickly grabbed the blond and plucked him off his perch. Not pausing, the giant threw the blond right at the hole that Heero's body had previously made.

Solo's flight was stopped abruptly as he slammed into a wall, not going through it but not falling off of it either. Light from a collection of windows shined in his face and he squinted his eyes shut to try and block the light. This was definitely not going how he had wanted it to.

Cracking his eyes open, he got a good look at Heero's body and he couldn't help but feel awful about it. What was this Chinese asshole doing here in the first place? What the hell did he think he was doing back there?

"_Heero!_" a voice shrieked. Turning his head to a side, he saw Dorothy and Relena stumbling onto the scene, the latter looking at the corpse on the floor near-hysterically.

This was one big, fat, happy reunion, wasn't it?

Hearing the heavy footsteps that signaled Sigmund's approach, Solo turned to look back at the monster, not even mustering the energy to shout at the girls to get away.

---

Things were going badly, no ifs, ands, or buts about it.

Perched up but a long ass spike that had been planted into the ground, Trowa could do nothing more than hang from it as Astaroth had his way with him. The scaly one was practically carving up his body with a long, thin spike and blood was everywhere.

Three guesses whose blood that happened to be.

"We're just making you pretty, aren't we?" Astaroth teased as he drew another long, bleeding scratch into Trowa's torso, just another of the many he had been accumulating recently.

"You have one fucked up sense of beauty," Trowa spat at the scaly one, blood flecking off his lips and onto Astaroth.

A harsh punch in his gut was his reward. It wasn't as if the other was disgusted by his blood being on him. He was just doing this for kicks now, wasn't he?

"Such a dirty mouth," Astaroth mock-admonished. "Just have to clean it out, I guess."

"And how do you fucking plan on accomplishing that?" Trowa half-snarled.

Without a word, Astaroth simply plunged the spike he was holding into Trowa's shoulder, not stopping until it had gone all the way through his body and exited it. The pain was too much, too much that he couldn't muster a word.

"Aw, where's that mouth now?" Astaroth taunted. Pulling the spike out, he continued, "Maybe we can find it again, eh?" With that, he plunged the spike back into Trowa's body, right in his thigh to be precise, the spike accidentally cutting the artery there.

The pain was nothing but a dull throb now but Trowa remained resilient. But he had lost so much blood…there was only so much he could lose before…

Coughing, he spat out a mouthful of blood. Well that was a bad sign. He'd heard from somewhere that coughing up blood was a sign of dieing. Heh…wasn't the first time he'd come to this point but he wasn't just going to lay here like a pig for the slaughter if he had his way about it.

Forcing his head up to look Astaroth in the eye, he thought that maybe he wouldn't be going out alone either…

Taking hold of all the remaining power in his body, his blasted it down into the ground, sewing the seeds for his great finale. He was going to bring life back into this place, even if it cost him his life.

Astaroth was unaware of what he was up to as he said, "Looks like you still have some spirit in you. Good! Lets see if we can't break it…"

"Break it?" he chuckled. "You can break it, probably. But definitely not before I break every bone in your body."

"And how are ya gonna accomplish that?" Astaroth sneered.

Feeling that pleasant sensation as something slowly began crawling up his leg, Trowa smiled. "You'd be surprise what a wild animal can do when caught in a corner. Desperation is a very powerful tool if you can use it."

Frowning, Astaroth demanded, "What the fuck are you talking about?"

"Who has the dirty mouth now?" Trowa teased back.

Growling, Astaroth shoved his spike back into Trowa's body but something wasn't quite right about it. Scowling, Astaroth pulled it out, actually having a bit of trouble doing so, but when he did, no one was more surprised than him to see _green_ blood leaking out from the wound.

And then he saw it; bark-like roots slithered up, around, and all over the other's body, slowly transforming the plant wielder into some kind of tree thing.

And he still had that damn smile on his face!

Suddenly, two large woody protrusion sprouted from the ground and slammed into him from either side. He gasped in pain but soon found the air in his body was slowly being driven out of him as the wood-things-whatever they were mounted pressure on his body.

He grew spikes out of his body to try and force them away but it had no effect other than to get him more stuck in this dire predicament.

"Who's gonna break who first?" Trowa finally spoke up, his face having not changed at all.

With crushing force, Astaroth's skeleton was flattened and his organs caught in it. Blood sprang out of every orifice on his body and he could only stare at his unlikely killer before his body was overcomed by all the plant life that was growing throughout the basement.

Closing his eyes, Trowa was soon consumed by his evergrowing creation and knew no more.

---

The hole in the wall wasn't large enough for Sigmund to do so the beast only broke more of it down so he could fit.

"Come ta finish the job, huh?" Solo drawled. "Gonna take more than you ta kill me."

Sigmund snorted at him and leveled a punch into the blond's body, sinking him further into the wall.

"That all ya got?" Solo taunted.

Another punch was his reply but still the blond persisted.

"You hit like a giiiirrrrrllllll…" he slurred.

This time Sigmund snarled at him and gave a quick one-two combo. Practically through the wall by now, plaster and all sorts of crap covering the blond, Solo still wouldn't give up.

"Take ya best shot," he gasped out. "…Motherfucker…"

"Stop it!" a feminine voice cried out and the two superpowered teens turned their heads to face Relena who was staring them down, tears streaming down her face. "Just stop it please!" she screamed.

Turning away from Solo, Sigmund slowly began to make his way towards the defiant girl. Relena remained put, refusing to move even when Dorothy was trying to pull her away. Sigmund didn't make it to her, however, as a gunshot tore through the air and Sigmund nearly fell over from the impact.

From his position, Solo saw the gaping wound in the giant's back and marveled at how it was slowly closing up. Turning his head towards the origin of the gun shot, he saw an old man with a shotgun at the other end of the hallway, right in front of the glass windows.

"Want to take a _real_ man?" the old man stated, "or are you not done playing with the children yet?"

Solo could barely make it out but he could've sworn that he heard Relena whisper "Romafellor" and he figured she must be referring to this new asshole. Why, when he got out of this wall, he was going to show him a thing or two…

Sigmund, after turning to face this Romafellor, just went berserk at the sight of this man, roaring like a crappy monster from a horror movie. He wasn't even done roaring when Romafellor shot him again, pumping the shotgun in his hands to remove the shell in the chamber.

As this new wound began to heal, Sigmund charged Romafellor, the old man moving back down the adjacent hallway he had come from. In an effort to get to him sooner, Sigmund crashed through the corner of the hallway, plaster and debris erupting into a whitish cloud in front of him. That was when he received a point-blank shotgun blast in his chest, stumbling back from the sheer force of it.

It didn't faze Sigmund for long as he let out a growl and shot his fist out, directly hitting Romafellor and sending him flying in the air towards a boardroom at the end of the hallway. Romafellor's body crashed through the doors and landed on the board table with a sickening smack, the old man coughing up a clot of blood as he laid still, still alive miraculously.

Meanwhile, Solo was mustering up the energy to pull himself off his seat in the wall and he found it surprising that he was actually gasping for breath when he succeeded. This fight was taking a lot out of him, more than any of the others he had been in.

Fisting a hand, Solo readied it and waited for Sigmund to appear again which he did not disappoint. Solo let him have it, his fist slamming into the side of Sigmund's face, his cheekbones collapsing beneath the blond's might.

Sigmund twisted his body and threw his large fist at Solo, connecting and sending the blond flying back. However, Solo was prepared for this as he flipped his body and landed on his feet, crouching for only second before he pushed forth with his legs right back at Sigmund. He was a virtual blur and his next blow landed true as this time it was Sigmund's turn to go flying backwards.

Unfortunately for Sigmund, it was straight through the windows behind him.

Solo caught himself at on the former windows' edges but got a good view as Sigmund plummeted below. Whether it was bad luck or something else, Solo winced as Sigmund smashed right through the top of the second helicopter, the aircraft exploding and falling down with the hulk like a limp insect.

Down on the paved ground, the concrete that covered the city's floor heaved upwards, much to the blond's confusion. That confusion was short lived, though, as an enormous root erupted through the pavement, not only shaking the building he and the girls were in but causing other twisting roots to break out of the building's base.

"Aw shit," Solo swore as he spun around and raced over to the two girls, one who was kneeling above the dead form of his boyfriend. "No time," he interrupted as he picked up both girls and ran back towards the broken windows, trying to gather as much speed as he could before he leapt out of the portal.

Time seemed to slow down as the blond hovered over the streets far below, slowly dropping in attitude as gravity began to take hold of him again. His momentum propelled him forth though, and he continued in an arcing flight path, maneuvering his feet ahead of him so that he crashing through a set of windows belonging to one of the under-construction buildings.

He curled his body as best as he could while holding two screeching girls so that he could roll and lay flat on the dusty floor, using his body to cover the two teen girls as things really began to pick up outside.

---

The entire Romafellor Building rumbled and trembled as the makings of a large tree ruptured from beneath it. The walls of the building bulged outwards and blew apart into a rain of debris and shards of glass.

Inside, a long, bark incrusted root shot up and broke through floor after floor in it's journey to the sky, widening and gaining girth the further it went. It wasn't alone though as other roots identical to it emerged from the floor of the building's lobby, wrapping around everything as well as themselves to begin the formation of a new life organism.

Lying on the board table where he had been left, Romafellor watched as the bark covered roots wriggled their way through the floor and wrapped around everything in sight, steadily making their way towards him. He watched it all with a disgruntled eye and didn't say a single word as the roots covered him and removed him from this world permanently.

The outer walls of the building were breaking into large chunks and sliding down the sides of the gigantic tree, the top of the building crumbling as the trunk of the tree finally formed and began sprouting branches. Tumbling down the side of the tree was the large logo of the Romafellor Corporation, the metal symbol bending out of shape and falling apart, becoming nothing but a scarp heap of metal when it reached the ground.

Enormous roots broke through the streets and into the surrounding buildings, causing them to toppling down as if showing the resilience of nature against the force of humanity. The tree's branches spread out in all directions, green leaves slowly growing from their ends until the entire top of the tree was covered with a large leafy hat.

It was the greatest tribute Trowa had left as his spirit passed from this realm.

A spark of life in the middle of a land of death and misery, a new symbol of hope that would always trump the "superiority" of mankind and its futile attempts to control that which was uncontrollable.

* * *

Author's Note: Bet you didn't expect this, did you? Two pilots' deaths in one chapter! This goes to show you not to expect anything when it comes to my stuff. No one's safe in one of my fics. Remember that for future reference.


	30. Den of Wolves

Author's Note: Once again, your eyes are not deceiving you. That is a complete up there. For more information, read the very end. Enjoy.

Disclaimer: I do not own Gundam Wing.

Warning: language

Den of Wolves

The clattering of metal on stone floor echoed throughout the chapel.

Rushing in to investigate, Father Maxwell came upon the sight of Yuuan, the boy dressed in an acolyte's uniform and staring out into space, a trail of tears moving down his cheeks. For the past few days, Yuuan had been nothing but a busybody, always trying to be helpful and doing so with great cheer. To see him like this was not just an incredibly rare occurrence; it had never happened before.

"Yuuan?" Father Maxwell said aloud, approaching the small boy. "Is something the matter?"

Yuuan did not reply as he continued to stare off in to space with tears leaking out of his eyes.

Placing a large hand on the small boy's shoulder, Father Maxwell knelt down and turning the boy's body slightly to get a look at his face. Worriedly, he asked, "Is there something wrong, child?"

A gasp of air escaped the boy's mouth and it seemed like Yuuan was about to break down. The priest, clueless as to why the boy was in this state, prepared to comfort the boy in any way that he could.

Finally, Yuuan breathed out a single word before descending into cry of sorrow.

"Sigmund…"

---

A misty dawn greeted the ruined city of Los Angeles, inhabitants of the city emerging from their shelters and casting confused looks at their changed landscape, some in fear and others in awe.

From his spot in one of the few remaining skyscrapers, Solo just stared out at the enormous tree before, no sign of emotion on his usually expressive face.

It was only just yesterday that he had been walking around in this very city, kicking ass and taking names while he was at it. This place was almost alien and he wanted nothing more than to ditch it. But where was he going to go now? He still needed to find Duo and Dorothy's vague story of his friend vanishing, literally, into thin air wasn't much of a starting point.

Speaking of the girls, he eyed the two huddled forms of Dorothy and Relena as the two continued to sleep heavily while leaning against each other and a concrete wall. Those two were very quiet, at least in Solo's recent memory they were, and the only noises he had heard from them were when Dorothy had told him her tale and Relena was sobbing over her dead Chinese boyfriend.

For some reason, he had the nagging feeling to say that boyfriend was Japanese but that urge was easily squashed as he focused his attention on more important things.

What was he going to do with those two now? He felt it in his gut that he couldn't take them with him. He had done such a good job with Duo and that guy was missing-in-action. Who knew what would happen if he took those two along. Dead would probably be a good bet since he knew what he was going to do as soon as hie left this Godforsaken place.

He was going to find his way back to that underground base and shove his foot straight up all those asshole's asses.

There in lied another problem: how was he going to find his way back there when he couldn't remember the way to it? Sure he had run _away_ from it but things looked different when you were going in a certain direction. He didn't know how long he had been running for anyway so he couldn't trace his footsteps back.

What was he going to do then?

Guess he'd just have to make a pest of himself, he supposed with a wry upturn of his lips. They'd send others after him and they would be his ticket back.

Casting one last look at the two sleeping girls, he face hardened as he came to a decision. He was going to have to ditch the girls and go alone from now on. Sure they may hate him for it but if they stuck around him, they were good as dead. Look at Trowa; the guy still hadn't showed up and judging by the size of that tree out there, he must've used a lot of energy to make it.

Besides, Trowa would've contacted him by now and he hadn't. Then again, if he was laying low, the blond wouldn't blame him. Being dragged back into something he had run from a decade ago was a good enough reason, in Solo's opinion, to scram out of this. Lord knows he would do the same thing if he was in the same position.

Heh, now he's thinking about that asshole, God. Lord knows? He was losing his mind, that had to be in. Then again, he was never in his right mind before so how would this be any different?

He didn't bother to leave a goodbye behind as he left the two sleeping girls and headed for a staircase, his intentions clear and solid.

---

"Please! For the love of God—Ahhhhggggg!"

"I just love the smell of death in the afternoon," Septum sighed pleasantly, watching a Congressman be smothered and crushed by his own bodily fluids.

Taking a look around, Septum felt as if he would blow a load in his pants at the sight of the carnage. He was a military man and it had been years since he had last seen combat. This brought back old memories of a time when he was a mere private advancing up the ranks.

None of these House of Representative Congressmen would understand that, though. Petty bureaucrats, every single one of them. It had been luck that he and the two weapons had arrived at a time when the House was in session. It made displaying Brett and Rex's powers that much more satisfying. If his luck held out, then the Senate was also convened and ripe for a visit from him.

Outside the House Chambers' doors were multitudes of his own loyal men, military men from all the branches of the armed services and all them keeping guard as Septum slowly took over the capital that was Washington DC. Soon this great nation's stronghold of power would be under his control and he would be the next President if he had his way.

All that was needed was to take care of the three branches of government and eliminate the current elected official who sat in the Oval Office and then it would be him in charge. Project Maxwell was finally paying off and it was none other than him who was reaping all the benefits.

And he would use these benefits to put this country back on track, that he would. No more of this cockamamie politics or checks and balances. He would be the Legislature, the Executive, and Judicial branches all rolled into one. It would make things so much simpler.

"Done here yet, boys?" he asked aloud to the two weapons. "We have another room full of people to kill and time is wasting…"

"All finished here, sir," Brett announced as he emerged from a section of the bloodied Congress Chamber, drenched in the crimson fluid but unaffected by it.

Nodding, Septum turned his attention to Rex. "And you?"

A flare of flames were his answer which was followed by the approach of the combustionist who gave a thumb's up to indicate he was through.

"Very good then" Septum said. "Follow me then boys. There's never a rest for the wicked so lets get back to it."

The two weapons followed after the general silently, both eager for a new batch of people to slaughter. It was just too much fun for them to pass up and besides, they were under orders to listen to this man until told otherwise.

Until then, it was just going to be a party for them.

---

It had been a long twenty-four hours for Quatre but it was going to be worth it in the end. All he had to do now was bring his father in on the loop and things could go on from there.

And that was what he currently was doing. It was times like these that he rued the fact that his father was so busy. It was taking away time from them, time that could be better spent in his opinion.

But good things come to those who are patient, he told himself repeatedly. He needed to have patience; he would eventually take over his family's corporate business one day and he needed all the virtues he could get his hands on until then.

A heavy knock interrupted his thoughts and he called out a command to enter. Telling by how heavy the footsteps were, he correctly guess that it was Rashid and that something had come up.

"Your father has arrived, Master Quatre," the bearded man rumbled.

The Winner heir could hardly contain his glee. Finally! Now he could get this over with and move on to the next thing. "Thank you Rashid," he replied. "Bring my father here and I'll take over."

"As you wish," Rashid said and quietly left his master.

Several minutes passed without incident but the blond held on to the fraying shreds of his patience. It was foolhardy to rush one of the most powerful men in the world and he just so happened not to be in such a position.

Then he heard the sound of approaching footsteps and he knew he didn't need to wait for much longer. He could hear the bit of irritation in his father voice as the man said, "There better be a good explanation for this Quatre."

Turning around to look at the man, Quatre studied the man he knew as his father, Raberba Winner, for a few seconds. The man looked like a rugged pioneer, very manly and chiseled, not even looking like the younger of the two except for the color of their blond hair and their crystal blue eyes. Powerfully built yet sinewy in frame, the two relatives were of about the same height, Quatre making up in height what he didn't have in girth as his father did.

"As a matter of fact, there is," the younger Winner greeted.

"Well? What is it?" the elder Winner demanded.

"We came across something last night and acquired it just this morning," Quatre explained as he gestured for his father to follow after him. "According to what we know, what we found has something to do with something called 'Project Maxwell, some sort of weapons program."

"'Project Maxwell,' huh?" Raberba said aloud as he followed after his son. "I've heard that term before but what does it have to do with this?"

"Everything," Quatre answered as he entered a staircase and rapidly began to descend them. "From some reliable sources, we've been able to determine that we have gotten our hands on a real product of the project. You see, Project Maxwell is an experimental program that takes normal, everyday people and turns them into superpowered titans."

"That sounds familiar too…" Raberba said under his breath. Thinking that his father had only knowledge that he himself had, Quatre did not suspect that his father was thinking of something else, something that he had come across years ago.

"Anyway, last night we found someone from the program and appropriated him when it was convenient," Quatre continued. "For now, we're keeping him here until we can get some trained specialists down here to take a good look at him. However, I wanted you to see this first to make sure that I have your approval, so to speak."

"And when has not having my approval ever stopped you before?" Raberba asked wryly.

"Ever since I found myself involved with this," Quatre answered, exiting the stairwell and leading the way further into the complex. "Recently, according to Trieze, two more of these people from Project Maxwell have popped up in the capital and they're tearing everything apart. General Septum is keeping everything under a tight lid there so no one knows what's going on, meaning he too knows something about this."

"Septum, eh?" Raberba commented. "If he's involved, you can bet that XAI is not too far away."

"What makes you say that?" Quatre asked, giving his father a puzzled look.

"Septum has never dealt with WEI or involved himself with Romafellor," Raberba said. "It doesn't take a genius to figure out that he's been with XAI and whenever Xavien's involved with something, Septum's name can be traced to it."

"Old friends?"

"No, Septum just doesn't like me or old man Romafellor. Now, about this Project Maxwell fellow?"

"This way."

Taking a few turns, Quatre led his father to a holding area, heading for a certain metal door with a small window embedded in it. "He's in here," Quatre told his father, stepping to a side to let the other man take a look.

"He doesn't look like much," Raberba commented, "but his hair is a little off. Maybe a side effect?"

"That's what we think too," Quatre replied.

"Tell me son, what do you think we can gain out of this?" Raberba questioned pulled away from the small window and looking straight at his son.

"Who knows?" Quatre shrugged. "A lot, nothing at all? It'll be nothing more than an investment when you come down to it but I think there's a lot of potential. I mean, why else would Septum try to keep this all quiet for ten years if there wasn't something important he is getting out of it?"

"True, true," Raberba acknowledge. Looking back through the small window, he said, "I'll give you an answer first thing in the morning. We need to tread carefully here."

Through the window and in the cell-like room, a slight boy dressed in raggedy clothing sat on a cot, arms resting on his legs and his head bowed downward. As the elder Winner continued to watch him, the boy lifted his head up to reveal the green-streaked, blue eyes of Jason Ciliars.

---

Having taken his usual dose of his "youth formula," Xavien placed the airgun injector down on his desk as he sat at ease in his office, watching a television screen that continually showed the devastation in the middle of Los Angeles. It was as if the news stations had nothing else better to report but that was all fine and dandy for the businessman. It gave him more time to ponder about that tree and to go over the reports given to him by the only two survivors of it.

According to Stone and the pale artfan, everything had gone as planned except for #14376 going out of control and wrecking the place. Of course, that had been the plan alone, for 14376 to go "out of control." Ignoring the bits of mindless drivel about the kinds of art Romafellor had once kept, he had pieced everything to together as to the best of his ability

He still did not know how that tree came to be, though he had a nagging feeling about it that he immediately suppressed, but other than that, the whole thing was a success.

Well, it was almost a success. 11085 hadn't been recovered; according to the report they weren't able to find it. That meant that 11085 was being held elsewhere or had been destroyed when Romafellor's HQ demolished. No matter which one it was, it still rankled that he had been outplayed, again.

Still, on a lighter note, things in Washington were going quite smoothly. By now, Septum had probably wiped out both the House and the Senate, keeping alive only those that stuck to his side in his endeavor. It was only a matter of time until the general made a play for the big boy seat and start his own presidency.

At that end, everything was going as planned. With a certifiable lackey in charge of the most powerful nation in the world, he himself might as well be the one in control. All that was needed now was to tie up some loose ends and figure out a way to dispose of the Winners.

There was no need to rush it, though. Things like these took time and he would make sure that none of it was undone. Of course, there were still the failures to recapture 11085 and 12093 and those were thorns in his side that never left. He almost saw red just thinking about those two. Only 12093 remained completely unaccounted for but it could probably be found following the trail of destruction it left in its wake. If only there was a way to incapacitate it long enough to get it back here…

With the press of a button, he turned off the screen, a light luminance glowing from the now-black screen and slowly dieing away, encompassing the man into near total darkness.

"Things are coming together," he spoke aloud to himself as he rolled his sleeve back down his arm, musing over everything. "Septum is proving to be an excellent pawn out east while one of my most competitive rivals is out of the picture. All of this and more can be attributed to the applications of Project Maxwell and this is only the beginning. The possibilities are nearly limitless and no one else has the resources or the vision to stand up to this.

"So dance, you little fools, you mindless puppets. Dance for me, go about your measly little lives like the pathetic worms that you are. The times are changing and there can only be one outcome. Everything here, everything around us all…

"…will be mine…"

**To Be Continued…**

To see what happens next, check out part III

The Maxwell Prodigy

* * *

Author's Note: I know, many of you weren't expecting this, now were you? We have a trilogy on our hands, but will it stay a trilogy or will it continue? Who knows? Probably not but it's still something to think about. Due to other commitments, i.e. school, it'll be a bit before I begin posting The Maxwell Prodigy but I will do so, you can count on it. Where is Duo? What is the fate of the world now that Septum and Xavien are moving in? Who's going to die next? All that and more will be answered in part 3.


End file.
